


save a horse...

by bonbennett



Series: ...ride a cowboy [1]
Category: Justified
Genre: Anal Sex, Banter, First Kiss, First Time, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of PTSD, Mild D/s, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Set in Season Four, Sharing a Bed, Unsafe Sex, no infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28789134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonbennett/pseuds/bonbennett
Summary: Maybe things change because Tim saves Raylan's life, or maybe they change because of a drunken challenge, or maybe they change because they were always going to.Tim and Raylan can't find it in themselves to mind.
Relationships: Raylan Givens/Tim Gutterson, Raylan Givens/Winona Hawkins (mentioned)
Series: ...ride a cowboy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2110644
Comments: 26
Kudos: 68





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> I recently finished watching Justified for the first time and I absolutely loved it 🥺
> 
> Naturally I came looking for fic and didn't come across any that fit into what I thought was a really obvious trope for the show: save a horse, ride a cowboy. This fic began as a oneshot in my head and then grew into the monster you see before you!

**raylan -**

Raylan would be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy situations that put him in danger. 

He was well aware of how insane it sounded, but it was the truth. A desk job would probably put him in the ground sooner than being a Marshal would; a week spent working a normal nine-to-five hitting computer keys and he’d be walking into the path of the first semi trailer truck that would have him. Every day working as a Marshal was different from the last and his life was at risk more often than it wasn’t, whether he was chasing a fugitive or saddled with prisoner transport.

Raylan knew that was at least half of what drew him to the job in the first place, just like he knew the other half was that it was guaranteed to piss Arlo off for an eternity.

If he were the type to favour introspection - and there were at least five court-mandated counsellors who would say he wasn’t - Raylan might stumble across the notion that the way he was raised had a lot to do with his predilection for danger in his life now. What was that saying, about children raised on poison considering harm a comfort? Arlo had been so harsh with him growing up, so rough and unforgiving, that maybe it wasn’t all that surprising that the sight of a gun pointed at him only made the world sharper and brighter to his eyes.

Not because he was worried about dying, mind, but because it probably meant he’d get to shoot something - to shoot _someone_ \- in the near future. He enjoyed it, and Raylan had made his peace with that a long time ago.

Things hadn’t been quite so high stakes in Miami, threats from the mafia notwithstanding. For reasons that Raylan himself didn’t understand, criminals there were more predictable than the people he found himself coming up against in Kentucky. Harlan itself was its own pocket dimension of insanity that required constant vigilance; would the guy pointing a gun at him get jumpy, get trigger happy, if Raylan hovered his hand over his own piece? 

A lot of the time, the answer to that particular question was _yes_. His hand could be ten inches away from his sidearm and some folks would still see it as an invitation to start firing and Raylan welcomed that, if only because he knew that he could still outdraw them nine times out of ten and it kept him in practice for situations that really required it. 

Then you had guys like the one standing in front of him at the present moment: Michael ‘Mikey’ Rabbit, though they hadn’t been able to discern whether that was his real last name or an extended lark he was playing on them. He was ex-military and one of Boyd’s most recent hires, even if he didn’t act like he recognized that anyone was the boss of him. Hell, Raylan wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Boyd had fired him when Mikey had taken out an innocent woman on the last job he was asked to do; at any rate it had put him in the Marshal’s crosshairs.

Guys like Mikey would take it personally if Raylan acted unconcerned by the situation he’d found himself in, which involved being held at gunpoint in an isolated cabin in an even more isolated holler. Whatever the case, Raylan was just happy for the excuse to stand favouring his right side with his hand resting comfortable on the button of his holster.

He’d be a lot happier if Mikey would consider lowering his voice. “I’m not going anywhere with you, pig! Death by cop, that’s the only way I’m leaving this place.”

It took an extraordinary amount of strength not to roll his eyes. Mikey might be agitated but the gun he was training on Raylan was resting level with his head; there was a good chance that if Raylan played this wrong he could be a smear on the wall. Still, he was only so patient. “I told you I’m a Marshal, Mikey. Hell, I can guarantee that _Boyd_ told you that. But you two aren’t so close anymore, are you? How about instead of leavin’ this place in a body bag, you see if you can’t tell us what he’s up to?”

The snort Raylan heard through his earpiece told him exactly what Art thought of his present strategy. Yeah, Raylan wasn’t crossing his fingers for it to come off without a hitch either. He didn’t personally give a shit if Mikey decided to rat on Boyd or not - and it would be _not,_ considering they’d served together - because Mikey had been right about how this was going to end, and that was bloody. 

He hadn’t really accounted for the sneer that mentioning Boyd would put on Mikey’s face, or the way it would make him tighten his grip on his glock. Raylan’s hand twitched minutely against the strap of his holster. “God, you’re all that fuckin’ hedgehog can talk about, you know? Raylan this, Raylan that. What, you two gay for each other?”

Art’s snort transformed into a full blown laugh. Raylan smirked big and mean. “Now, I can’t see how that would be any of your business, Mikey. Why don’t you lower your weapon and we can talk like civilised -”

Mikey took a large step forward, bringing him closer than Raylan was strictly comfortable with. They were only standing eight or so feet apart as it was and if he was being honest with himself, this could turn out to be one of those one in ten situations where he _wasn’t_ able to get a shot off before the guy who already had his weapon out and ready. The Kevlar weighing down against his shoulders was a cold comfort when Mikey could just as easily have a bullet nestled beneath the brim of Raylan’s hat before he could do shit about it. 

His ear piece was relaying nothing but tense silence; hard to be in good humour when things were going south this fast. Art and Rachel were monitoring the situation via a tiny camera in Raylan’s collar from a van parked not fifty feet outside of the cabin, and right now Raylan was hoping like hell that Tim was perched in some sniper’s nest nearby with a perfect view of what was going on. If not? Well, Raylan was about to find out.

He knew better than to show weakness by taking an answering step backwards. Raylan did tighten his hand on his holster, thumb poised to flick the button up, while he raised his other hand in a way that he hoped like hell looked cool, calm _and_ collected. “One more step and things are gonna get real uncomfortable, Mikey. You don’t want to shoot me and I’m thinkin’ you want an extra hole in you even less.”

The thing was, Mikey very clearly _did_ want to shoot Raylan. He’d had his finger on the trigger ever since Raylan had strolled into the room and it was only Raylan’s insistence to Art that he had everything under control that had kept him alive this long. Maybe that had been poor judgement on Raylan’s part, but it wouldn’t be the first time. He could only hope that it wouldn’t be the last. 

Maybe miracles were real, though, because Mikey lowered his gun just slightly. Raylan didn’t relax an inch. “You don’t seriously think you could shoot me before I popped one in you, right?” 

Raylan raised an eyebrow and directed his trademark devil-may-care smile - the very same one that made Art swear at him and Winona climb him like a tree - in Mikey’s direction. Mikey guffawed and lowered his gun further. “Shit, you do! I thought Boyd was makin’ up half the shit he said about you but now I’m thinkin’ he wasn’t. That’s too bad.”

The shift in Mikey’s demeanor was immediate. Mikey had been standing fairly relaxed but Raylan watched as he straightened up, his weight shifting in anticipation of the recoil of the weapon he was raising almost too quickly for Raylan to track. _Almost,_ because Raylan had his gun out of its holster and nearly up to where it might be useful when the glass behind Mikey shattered.

Some people said time slowed down when a gun was fired, but Raylan had always thought that everything got quicker. Just as he drew his gun level with Mikey’s chest a hole appeared through his forehead, the crack of the gunshot echoing somewhere in the distance. Almost immediately the light behind Mikey’s eyes began to dim as his body started to crumple towards the floor, which is why Raylan flinched at the sound of another gunshot. Had Mikey managed to squeeze his finger around the trigger in a last ditch effort to fuck Raylan over? Was he about to start leaking from somewhere he really shouldn’t be?

The cloud of blood was coming from in front of him, though, and with something like incredulity Raylan saw that Mikey now had a hole through his heart to match the one in his forehead. Tim had shot Mikey again before the poor asshole had been halfway to the ground and Raylan barked out a slightly hysterical laugh, scrubbing a hand down his face to muffle the sound. 

A gun hadn’t been fired in the room but his ears were ringing sharply just the same; it took him longer than he would have liked to register that Art was yelling a blue streak at him through his ear piece. “Raylan? Are you alive, you dick? Raylan!”

The day their comms conversations were recorded and put on file would be the day a mark would appear against Art’s name. Raylan adjusted his hat and scrubbed his hand down his face again, holstering his gun with his other hand like he’d done thousands of times before. “Yeah, Art, I’m fine. Mikey’s dead twice over.”

“Well damn, Raylan, would it have killed _you_ to say as much?”

Raylan didn’t dignify that with a response because he’d heard the end of it in stereo as Art walked into the cabin behind him, Rachel following closely at his heels. They both took one look at Mikey on the floor and shook their heads at Raylan in creepy unison, like something out of The Shining. He raised his hands. “It was justified! And _I_ didn’t shoot him!”

Somehow, neither of them looked like they believed him. Well, that wasn’t his problem. He started to inch towards the door in a way that was far outside of the realm of subtle, but Art knew about his aversion to documenting crime scenes, even if they were his own. Raylan could feel his blood rushing through his veins and his skin felt two sizes too small; adrenaline with nowhere to go. Actually… Raylan spun on his heel to face Art. “Where’s the wunderkind?”

Art flapped his hand somewhere up and to the left. “He scampered off that way - shit, you weren’t kidding. He shot Mikey twice!”

Raylan was already halfway out the door, Kentucky sun warm on his face when he tipped it up to the sky. Nothing got him going like good shooting and another day that he didn’t wind up dead at the hands of some two-bit idiot. Usually _he_ was the one doing the good shooting, but when the shots were as pretty as the ones Tim had pulled off, Raylan was willing to see the praise go elsewhere. 

The cabin Mikey had holed himself up in was bordered on two sides by high ridges and Raylan took the one on the left because it was slightly taller and more level, not to mention that Art probably had a better idea of where Tim had gone than he was letting on. He scrambled up in a way that probably looked about as elegant as it felt, Kevlar weighing him down all the while. 

It was impossible to be quiet about it and he wasn’t really trying, so it wasn’t a surprise when Tim was already looking his way when Raylan finally found him, his sturdy hands most of the way through disassembling his rifle. He looked Raylan up and down, almost like he was double-checking that he still had all of his parts, before he returned his attention to the task at hand. “You’d be a pain in the ass to hunt with, Raylan, scarin’ off all the game.”

It was even less of a surprise to hear that Tim sounded about as cool as a cucumber and nothing like he’d just shot a man twice with perfect precision. Raylan wished that he knew why that made his blood pump hotter, and why it made his skin feel tight enough that he flexed his hands as he grinned. “I’m willing to let that comment slide, seein’ as you might’ve just saved my life. That was some damn fine shooting, Tim.”

Tim wasn’t the type to smile wide but the tiny quirk at the corner of his mouth was enough to feel like a victory to Raylan, even if Tim wasn’t going to say thank you outright. It did look like his cheeks might’ve darkened a little, maybe, but it could also be a trick of the dappled sunlight through the trees. Raylan walked closer to find out, twigs snapping beneath his feet. Their height difference felt exaggerated by the terrain and when Tim lifted his eyes to Raylan’s he saw that his pupils were blown, only the thinnest portion of gray-blue to be seen. 

The implication that dangerous situations did it for Tim the same way that they did it for Raylan shouldn’t have been a shock and in a way it wasn’t, even as Raylan’s heart gave a painful thud in his chest. The urge to touch Tim came on so suddenly that Raylan didn’t have time to question it before he was lifting a hand, watching like a spectator of his own body as he placed it at the juncture of Tim’s neck and shoulder.

Tim didn’t flinch or pull away, but he did stop moving, the few remaining parts of his rifle hanging from his hands. The woods were quiet around them save for the distant noises from the cabin and Raylan was finding it hard to look away from his hand on Tim’s neck. In a moment of insanity he rubbed his thumb against the strong corded muscle there, feeling warm skin and Tim’s rabbiting pulse. Residual adrenaline, maybe?

It was harder to lift his gaze to Tim’s than it had been to raise his gun to shoot. 

“If you hadn’t shot him… Well, I probably would have.” Tim let out a noise that was a hybrid between a snort and a laugh and Raylan grinned at him. “But now we don’t have to find out, do we?” He squeezed Tim’s neck, just once, both because he wanted to and because he was surprised that Tim was allowing this. “You took care of it.”

Raylan felt like he was starting to sweat underneath his Kevlar. His hat was casting a slight shadow over Tim’s face and they were standing so close that Raylan’s options were either to stare into Tim’s eyes, which felt dangerous, or at his mouth, slightly parted and far more pink than he would have guessed, and ten times more dangerous for it. When he realized that he was still rubbing his thumb against Tim’s neck he forced himself to stop, though he didn’t move his hand away.

Why was he touching Tim, anyway? Why was Tim _letting_ him? Only, in the middle of what was surely a break in sanity, Raylan could acknowledge that he didn’t want to stop touching Tim. And did he have to? Because Tim _still_ wasn’t moving away and - 

“Raylan? Tim? Get your asses down here!”

At Art’s voice booming through the trees Tim shifted away, whatever had been building between them snapping like an elastic band as Tim - gently - shoved the remaining pieces of his rifle into his bag. Raylan’s hand hung suspended in the air for a moment, his palm cold, before he remembered to let his arm fall to his side. The world felt like it had tilted on its axis at some point in the last couple of minutes and Raylan felt off balance. Tim didn’t seem to feel the same way seeing as he walked past Raylan to make his way back down to the cabin without another word. 

Raylan stared at the trees in front of him for a moment before he laughed and shook his head, adjusting his hat as he turned and started back down the side of the hill. As he grabbed at branches to stop himself from landing on his ass Raylan reasoned that whatever weirdness that had just occurred was just a result of too much adrenaline with nowhere to go and not… well, not because of anything else.

Debriefing with Art and then with the crime scene investigators milling around the cabin was a great way to distract himself, even if it was Raylan’s least favorite part of the job. It never held his attention on a good day but he couldn't focus for love or money now, eyes drifting over the head of the woman asking him questions more often than he was looking her in the face. He knew he was being rude and he tried to concentrate, which only lasted as long as it took him to land his eyes on where Tim was talking to Art.

It was just possible to hear the murmur of their voices if he strained his ears. For such a calm guy Tim sure gestured a lot when he talked, hands flying through the air as explained something or other to Art. Tim had divested himself of his Kevlar vest - Raylan felt like he was slowly roasting beneath the one he still wore - and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing pale forearms defined by muscle. Raylan found his eyes lingering there against his better judgement.

“ - Givens?”

Raylan lowered guilty eyes back down to the poor woman in front of him. Her gaze was flinty enough that he grimaced. “Sorry, Ms -” he looked at her nametag, “Cameron. What were you saying?” She let out a gusty sigh and rolled her eyes at him, which he probably deserved. He answered her questions, and then the questions from the guy who came after her, and then it looked like the area was finally clearing out. 

Art still clapped loudly to get their attention and Raylan ambled over, Tim and Rachel doing the same. The smile on Art’s face reminded Raylan of the one a proud father might wear. “Now, I think you’ll both agree -” he pointed at Raylan and Rachel in turn, “- that after his performance today, Tim here should get to choose which bar he drags our sorry asses to?”

Raylan’s first instinct was to protest, because Art never let _him_ choose a bar when he shot someone. The fact that Raylan’s shootings occurred outside of his actual job half the time shouldn’t have mattered. Like he knew exactly what was coming Art glared at him and Raylan sighed, looking heavenward. He wasn’t nearly as bad as Art made him out to be. Tim’s voice drew his gaze back down to earth.

 _Tim_ didn’t look like he was still suffering from an excess of adrenaline, standing instead with his shoulders relaxed and his hand resting casually on his sidearm. An easy grin appeared on his face and it made Raylan want to smile back, even if it wasn’t being directed at him. “Well, Art, I intend to make you regret that offer.”

Art boomed out a happy laugh and reached forward to slap a hand down on Tim’s shoulder. “Then you can’t get upset if I only make it the once. How’s about we all clean up a little and you text us the address? I think we all deserve to finish early today.” He cast his eyes Raylan’s way and faux-grimaced. “And some of us could use a shower, probably.”

Knowing that Art was only trying to get a rise out of him didn’t stop Raylan from letting it happen. “Hey! I smell as fresh as a fuckin’ daisy and you know it!”

Art was already walking away, his laughter echoed by Rachel’s as she followed him. Raylan was about to shout after them when a hand shoved at his shoulder; Tim. He was grinning at Raylan, eyes sparkling with mirth. Were they standing closer than they normally did or was Raylan just imagining it? He didn’t have time to think about it too hard before Tim’s mouth was opening. “Pack your cowboy boots, Raylan.”

Wait, what?


	2. two.

**tim -**

Tim had always thought he was pretty self-aware, as far as people went. He knew that he was good at shooting, drinking, and making people laugh when they’d rather not. He could even admit when pressed that he had some character flaws that could use some work, like his temper and just how much of that drinking he might do in a single day. Point was, Tim thought that after over thirty years of walking the earth, he knew himself inside and out.

Which is why Raylan Givens felt like a thorn in his side.

Even when he’d been surrounded by big, brawny guys every single day with the Rangers, Tim had never looked at a man twice. Sure, he could appreciate a good face on a man just as much as he could appreciate the same on a woman, and at first that’s what he’d thought it was with Raylan. He’d walked into the office with his cowboy hat and swagger and Tim had thought, huh. That’s an attractive man.

And for near on three years now, that’s all he’d thought about it. He’d watched Raylan let Ava chase his tail, and then he’d watched Raylan chase Winona’s tail after that; Tim had thought that maybe the second time would be the charm with that one, but before long Raylan had that hangdog look about him again. It hadn’t been long after that that Lindsey had come onto the scene, but her criminal element was a nail in the coffin of that romance; as far as Tim knew, she had been the last. 

Tim had thought that getting closer to Raylan would make him less attractive, but it hadn’t really worked out that way. 

They had become more friendly as time wore on, even if they still weren’t the type to spend time with each other outside of a work context and knowing that Raylan was an asshole who definitely had anger issues of his own didn’t stop Tim’s eyes from lingering too long on his mouth or his hands, or his long legs when he sprawled at his desk. It _definitely_ didn’t stop Tim’s heart from beating just that little bit quicker when he watched Raylan take someone down. And it had occurred to Tim that he should maybe be more concerned about that, but Tim also figured that he was reacting to Raylan the same way as everyone else.

That didn’t mean that he was ever going to bring it up to say, Rachel, and find that out for certain. She’d probably laugh in his face if she didn’t take it the wrong way and make assumptions that he’d really rather she didn’t. Finding Raylan attractive was practically a requirement in the state of Kentucky; it didn’t mean anything.

And it might not mean anything, but Tim was finding it difficult to think of anything else as he had a perfunctory shower under water that was more cold than it was hot; it felt like the adrenaline from the shooting hadn’t left him at all, only it was manifesting in ways that he wouldn’t have expected. Like Raylan’s words as he’d cupped the side of Tim’s neck - _you took care of it_ \- playing through his head on a loop as he scrubbed at his body.

Raylan wasn’t an especially tactile person, was the thing. Neither was Tim. So why was he finding it so difficult to keep his hands off of the part of his neck that was burning like Raylan’s touch had branded him? As soon as he stepped out of the shower his eyes landed on the spot in the mirror and he stared at it, steam swirling around him, before he rolled his eyes at himself. The touch was only standing out to him because it had been unexpected. No other reason.

Scrubbing at his hair roughly with a towel as he tried to pull jeans up his damp legs without falling and braining himself on the side of his bed was distracting enough that Tim didn’t think of Raylan at all for at least five minutes, the achievement frustrating enough that he ground his teeth together. It was only once he’d worked his jeans over his ass that he realized they were so hard to get on because they were a size too small, which is what he deserved for letting himself get so distracted; before he could decide whether changing was worth it his phone buzzed with a text from Art asking for the address already, dammit.

With a shrug Tim decided that the others probably wouldn’t be looking at him closely enough to notice that his pants were tighter than the ones he usually wore and he sent the address through to Art, then to Rachel and Raylan. Rachel got back to him almost straight away with an offer to pick him up on her way there and Tim readily accepted the invitation for what it was, which was an excuse to drink more. For some reason he felt like, today of all days, he deserved that luxury.

He heard her pull up to his house and had the front door open before she could knock, wallet and keys already shoved into his back pocket. Rachel gave him a once over and smirked. “You look nice.”

Tim raised his eyebrows at her; jeans and a Henley were hardly different to what he usually wore. “Why does that sound threatening when you say it?”

Rachel only laughed and led him back to her car and he grinned as he followed her, gravel crunching beneath his shoes. The ride to the bar was relatively short but Rachel managed to give Tim _a look_ no fewer than three times. He was tempted to ask her what the hell her problem was but there was a good chance that she’d just laugh at him so Tim didn’t bother; the fourth time he caught her he stuck his tongue out and she snorted, shaking her head at him instead of saying anything.

It took two seconds of looking to see that both Raylan and Art’s cars were already in the lot when they arrived and even less time to spot them when they walked in, if only because Raylan’s eyes found Tim’s straight away. He was sitting in a relaxed sprawl in what Tim assumed was a clean pair of jeans and a fresh shirt, and he tipped his drink at Tim with a smile as he and Rachel weaved through people to get to the table. The bar wasn’t still pretty quiet, the hulking mechanical bull at the center of the room still at least two hours away from being fired up.

Art cheered when he saw him, so Tim guessed that he’d already been drinking a while; there was a bottle of bourbon on the table that was nearly half empty. “There he is, the man of the hour!” 

Raylan grinned wide and poured Tim a glass, their fingers brushing when Tim took it. It was a casual touch, nothing of note, but Tim felt hyper aware of it as Raylan grinned at him, clinking his own glass against Tim’s before he took a drink. Bourbon would never have been Tim’s first choice, living in Kentucky or not, but he knocked it back like water. After what had happened at the cabin he was feeling unsure, wrongfooted, and the way Raylan’s eyes hadn’t left him wasn’t exactly helping. But Art’s good mood was contagious and soon enough Tim was laughing as Art recounted stories from his glory days; in no time at all their empty glasses and beer bottles almost took up as much space on the table as their arms.

It was good to hang out like this and Tim acknowledged that he’d really grown to enjoy the company of the three people at this table. They spent near to every day together, but working with someone was different to shooting the shit just for fun; their senses of humour were similar enough that Tim found himself laughing harder than he had in ages, and harder still when he cracked a joke and both Raylan and Rachel snorted their drinks up their noses. Everyone was well past the point of just being buzzed but Tim knew it would take a lot more to get him properly drunk, his liver turned to steel after his stint with the Rangers.

Art didn’t look like the same rule applied to him: he was ruddy in the cheeks and must have been aware of the fact because he waved off Rachel trying to fill his glass, pushing back from the table to stand instead. “No, no, I’ll go. You kids have fun without me like I know you want to.” He walked around the table and clamped a hand on Tim’s shoulder; Tim looked up at him and grinned, clapping his own hand over Art’s twice. “You did good today. Saved his sorry ass, anyhow.”

Art looked at Raylan as he said it and only got a lazy grin from the man in response, which made something that felt a lot like warmth curl low in Tim’s belly. If his body was going to up and betray him maybe Tim should call it a night too, before he did something that he’d be embarrassed about in the morning. Rachel looked like she was having too much fun for him to ask her to take him home though, and Tim felt like he could trust himself to behave.

Besides, when he hadn’t been contributing to the conversation Raylan had been occupying himself by following various women around the bar with his eyes instead. Most of them ended up looking right back at him, blushing at the attention or turning to giggle with their friends. Was Raylan even aware of the power he wielded, or was he surprised every time he turned and fell between a woman’s legs?

Tim snorted into his glass. Yeah, Raylan knew; there was no fucking way he didn’t. There was no way that Raylan could have heard his laugh but he tore his eyes away from his gaggle of admirers like he had, warm eyes landing on Tim. Raylan smirked at him and shifted in his seat, his leg rubbing against Tim’s. How long had Raylan been pressed up against him without him noticing?

A much scarier thought made itself known: Tim might’ve not noticed, but had _Rachel?_

The answer seemed to be ‘no’, because when Tim checked Rachel was watching a stacked blond woman teeter towards the mechanical bull that had just been fired up for the night on heels so tall they made Tim’s calves ache. It was obvious how sloshed the woman was, just like it was obvious by the way she kept batting her eyes at the guy behind her that she was hoping to show off for him.

He wasn’t going to rub his hands together in anticipation of some entertainment, but Tim did grin into his glass. “Oh, this is gonna be _good._ ”

Rachel laughed and _did_ rub her hands together, because she was secretly a vindictive and vengeful goddess. The woman grabbed the handle of the bull and unsteadily hauled herself up, wobbling slightly before she settled. Hell, even if she landed on her back straight away, her legs looked _great_ from where Tim was sitting. With a slightly panicked nod to one of the waitstaff the bull jerked to life beneath her, barely a rock of movement.

The woman squealed all the same, her knuckles turning white. The next rock was definitely more of a _buck_ and she swayed dramatically forward before she started to tip to the side. Before she could right herself the bull bucked again and she let out an almighty scream as she was dumped unceremoniously on the ground. The other patrons of the bar whistled and clapped for her regardless, happy enough to see a young scantily-clad woman do just about anything.

Tim was still chuckling into his glass when Rachel turned her darkly amused gaze on him; he didn’t think he could be blamed for the way he froze. Her smile was even more concerning. “I’ll give you a hundred bucks,” and she paused to laugh at her own joke, “if you last the whole time on that thing.”

She pointed at the bull, which was definitely unnecessary. Rachel didn’t sound like she was joking and Tim was tempted to ask her if she knew _why_ he’d picked this particular establishment; it sure as shit wasn’t because the drinks were any good. He wasn’t tempted for long because it was more fun to let her think that he was going to end up in the same position as the woman before him; or maybe not, seeing as she was furiously making out with the man she’d been trying to impress. 

Only Raylan must have taken Tim’s hesitation for reluctance, because he slapped a one hundred dollar bill onto the sticky table with finality. Rachel crowed and rifled through her purse, slapping another bill on top of it with an evil grin. Where were they getting this kind of cash? Was Art not paying Tim right? The amusement in Raylan’s voice was audible when he said, “Two hundred bucks, Tim. This I’ve _gotta_ see.”

There was no reason that hearing Raylan say that should make even more warmth pool between Tim’s legs. Was he drunk? He really didn’t feel drunk. But if his brain was getting wires _this_ crossed… well, nothing like riding a mechanical bull to throw those pesky thoughts - barely thoughts, he wasn’t thinking _anything_ \- out of his brain. Tim hopped out of his seat and folded their hard earned cash, shoving it into his back pocket before they could get wise and changed their minds.

“Just remember that you asked for this.” Tim walked two steps in the direction of the bull before he got an idea that almost made him laugh out loud: he walked back to their table and plucked Raylan’s hat right off of his head. “You don’t mind, right?” Tim winked at him as he arranged Raylan’s hat _just so_ on his hair and Rachel snort-laughed, breaking into giggles. Instead of protesting Raylan just grinned and shook out his hair, pushing it back from his forehead with a large hand.

 _Jesus._ Raylan was a lot to look at right now, and Tim _really_ needed to stop drinking.

The waiter he flagged down laughed at him when he saw the hat - how often did people pull this stunt, anyway? - but agreed readily enough to let Tim up onto the bull. And if Rachel and Raylan wanted a show, why shouldn’t Tim give them one? They probably thought he was going to get thrown off because his legs weren’t as long as the giggly woman's, and even he could admit that. But he also knew he had her beat when it came to pure core strength and grip. 

There was also the fact that he’d grown up doing this for fun, but what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. Especially when Tim was willing to act like he didn’t know which way was up. He swung himself up onto the bull easy as anything, nodding to the waiter to start her up. A few people in the crowd shouted encouragement and clapped; when the bull rocked for the first time Tim let himself tip like he was going to fall, righting himself with a laugh like he was more drunk than he was.

The bull rocked again and he acted like the movement had been stronger than it was, like it had come close to unseating him. He let go with one hand to adjust Raylan’s hat on his head, lifting his face to the crowd. Rachel and Raylan were still sitting at their table and he grinned at them, big and obnoxious, just a drunk guy who was in over his head. Time to get serious. With the next buck he moved with the motion instead of against it, tightening his legs and rolling his spine, keeping just the one hand on the support; holding Raylan’s hat on his head was half for show and half because he was worried it would go flying if he didn’t.

The next time Tim met Raylan’s eyes across the bar he smirked and winked again, tipping Raylan’s own hat at him just slightly. Then he gave himself over to the motion of the bull, which bucked faster and harder as time wore on. His thighs burned with the exertion but it a good kind of burn, bone-deep and satisfying; almost as satisfying as the hooting and hollering of the crowd as he just kept on holding on, meeting each movement of the bull at the perfect time until it finally shuddered to a stop beneath him. 

For a second time that day he received effusive praise, only this time it took the form of thunderous applause and wolf-whistling, from men and women alike. Tim couldn’t have stopped himself from grinning if he tried as he hopped down off of the bull, adjusting Raylan’s hat on his head as he went. Walking through the crowd garnered back slaps, congratulations, and what felt like a maybe-accidental ass grab, but Tim was willing to let it slide with how high he was flying right now.

When he made it back to their table, only Raylan was there to greet him. He was smiling wide enough to split that damnable face of his in two and he shook his head at Tim even as he held out his hand, waiting. Tim bypassed it in favour of placing the Stetson where it belonged, right back on Raylan’s head, before he collapsed into his seat. “Where’s Rachel?”

Raylan ignored him. “You learn that in the Rangers, did you?”

Tim took the beer that Raylan offered him, resting the lip of the bottle against his mouth like it would hide his grin. “Nah. You can take the boy out of Texas…”

That made Raylan bark out a laugh. “You’re from Arkansas, jackass.”

Considering that wasn’t information he’d volunteered, Tim could only assume that Raylan had read his file. That was fair, seeing as Tim had read Raylan’s as soon as he’d landed in the office. Tim tipped his head to concede the point. “I learned a lot of fun shit in the Rangers, but that wasn’t one of ‘em. Where’s Rachel, ladies’ room? Did she miss the show?”

Tim hadn’t been expecting the way the question would make Raylan’s eyes turn shifty, or the way it’d make him move in his seat. For all Raylan was a deadshot with a gun, he was a pretty lousy liar when he wasn’t trying. “She, uh - she had to step out, actually.”

That made Tim groan, his face tipped towards the ceiling in the kind of dramatics he only allowed himself when he was drunk, or playing at it. “Goddammit, she was my ride.”

“I can be your ride.”

The sip of beer Tim had just taken got caught in his throat at the words and he coughed, sputtering out a laugh once he wasn’t at risk of dying. It took Raylan a moment to rewind what he’d just said before he grinned and ducked his head, hat casting his face in shadow. Tim waited for him to clarify that wasn’t what he meant and just kept on waiting, heart thudding awfully painful in his chest. Just when he was about to break and ask what the fuck was going on, exactly, Raylan looked up. His eyes snapped to something behind Tim and storm clouds crossed his expression; Tim half expected that he’d turn around to see Boyd fixing to rob the place.

“You’re a real natural at that.”

Well, that wasn’t Boyd. Tim turned in his seat and looked up - and _up_ \- into the face of a guy he hadn’t noticed before, meaning he must have entered the bar sometime in the last five minutes. Military training was nearly impossible to turn off and Tim always tried to keep track of as many faces in a space as he could, and this guy definitely had the kind of face that he would have noticed. High cheekbones, blue eyes, blond hair. An easy smile that he was currently directing Tim’s way in between sips of his beer. 

The warmth from before was still settled low in Tim’s gut and maybe riding the bull with Raylan’s eyes on him had made him reckless, because instead of just nodding his thanks he grinned up at the guy and shrugged. “I try.”

The onceover the guy gave him was bold even for a crowded bar; they were still in Kentucky, after all. The guy’s smile transformed into a smirk that was even more lacking in subtlety. “I bet. How about you let me buy you a drink?”

There was a real chance that Tim didn’t know his own limits with alcohol anymore because it was more than a little tempting to say yes and see where this path was gonna lead, or it could just be that the guy’s confidence was doing it for him. Tim didn’t even know anymore. Your early thirties was young enough to start experimenting, right? “Well -”

Raylan’s voice was low. Dangerous. “He’s fine.”

Was he fine? Tim wasn’t so sure, considering it felt like his ears were ringing and he’d lost his grasp of the conversation - of the _night_ \- sometime in the last ten seconds. A glance back at Raylan confirmed that he was projecting his usual brand of casual confidence, all fuck-with-me-if-you-dare, slouched down in his seat with his right hand hovered above his hip like he was aching for the reassurance of his sidearm. The only thing that belied how he really felt was the coldness in his eyes as he stared at the guy standing in front of Tim. 

Raylan wasn’t playing at being angry and Tim just wished that he understood _why._ Why Raylan felt the need to warn this guy off, and why Tim wanted to let him. Tim lifted his beer to his lips and took a sip, watching the guy look at his mouth as he did it. That warmth in his belly _really_ wasn’t going away. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

The guy raised an eyebrow and looked between them, almost like he thought that they were just messing with him, like Tim couldn’t possibly be saying no. Or maybe he was trying to gauge if Raylan had a claim on Tim, which was a thought too ridiculous to entertain. Tim wanted to check and see if Raylan was still wearing his murder face, but it felt unnecessary when he could see the color slowly draining from the guy’s face. Eventually he scoffed and walked off, rolling his shoulders like he could have just as easily started throwing punches. 

Now _that_ would have spiced up Tim’s night.

A bar brawl might have been more fun, because now Tim was left with Raylan and the whole lot of _something_ hanging in the air between them. He spun on his seat, his thighs burning slightly with the stretch of the movement, and regarded Raylan over his mostly empty bottle. Would it really have killed Raylan to let the guy buy him _one_ drink? Tim felt justified in being a little snipey, if only because he knew it’d make Raylan squirm. “You gonna tell me what that was about, or do I have to guess?”

Raylan grimaced and scrubbed a hand down his face, knocking his hat to the side. Tim had to stop himself from leaning forward to adjust it for him and he looked at the label of the bottle in his hand, squinting suspiciously at the alcohol percentage. It was about as weak as piss, not nearly strong enough to have him thinking the thoughts that he was, and he dropped it onto the table with a grimace of his own.

It left with him no option but to look at Raylan, who directed a hangdog expression his way, like a dog who’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. “Do I have to?”

Curiosity made Tim want to say yes. Was it a homophobic thing? Raylan had faults, sure, but Tim never would have accused him of bigotry. But if it wasn’t _that_ , the potential reasons for Raylan’s behaviour only got stranger the further down the line he went; Tim’s best guesses were _jealousy_ and _possessiveness_. Entertaining them as options, however briefly, was another point in the ‘I’ve drunk too much’ column. 

“Not if you buy me the drink he was going to.” Raylan’s eyes widened and Tim reckoned he probably looked the same, seeing as he hadn’t given his mouth the permission to form that sentence. Drinking more didn’t seem like such a good idea, if he was going to start talking without his own say-so. He could only imagine what he’d end up saying to Raylan with how he was feeling right now, warm and… he didn’t even know. He ignored the way he could feel his face reddening to say, “Or you could just drive me home, considering Rachel bailed on me.”

If Tim had thought that would relax Raylan, it seemed to have the opposite effect: if anything he only _blushed_ , his mouth quirking in a way that almost looked rueful. After a moment Raylan shook his head and looked back up at Tim, his eyes sparkling with humour like Tim had just said something funny. Then Raylan knocked back his beer in a way that had Tim’s eyes falling again to the length of Raylan’s throat and the way it worked as he swallowed. Tim’s jeans were tight but they were feeling even tighter all of the sudden, near to constricting around his legs as he spread his thighs, shifting in his seat.

Raylan dropped his empty bottle onto the table with a _thud_ and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he fixed Tim with a look. His eyes narrowed like he was thinking, or like he was sizing Tim up; Tim didn’t know which he would prefer. Raylan lifted his hips and took out his wallet, slapping enough bills down to pay for their tab. Then, casual as you like, he said, “You’ve got better booze at your place, right?”

Tim couldn’t do much more than blink at him for a moment. Raylan acting like nothing weird had happened wasn’t all that unprecedented, but inviting himself over? He’d never encroached on Tim’s personal life before. But then again, why wouldn’t he? Tim would put money on Raylan’s mind not being anywhere in the vicinity of where Tim’s was right now. As far as Raylan was concerned they were just two friends drinking together and Tim knew that was what he should be thinking too. He shrugged, falsely casual, and stood. “Only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

Considering how much Tim had seen Raylan drink in the last hour and a half he expected him to sway when he stood, but Raylan was surprisingly steady on his feet; apparently he could hold his liquor just as well as Tim. It threw Tim off a little because it meant that they were both sober enough to be held accountable for any decisions that they might make, and it also meant that Raylan’s reaction to the guy hitting on Tim - because that’s definitely what had been happening - wasn’t one fuelled by being three sheets to the wind. 

Tim didn’t know what to do with that information, because drunk jealousy he might have been able to understand. But _sober_ jealousy? That was a different beast entirely. 

“Let’s go.” Raylan walked by Tim close enough that his denim jacket grazed Tim’s arm and he let it happen because the alternative was to move out of the way. Tim was barely tipsy and he was definitely with it enough to acknowledge that moving away from Raylan wasn’t high on his list of priorities, not when confusion and low grade arousal were both swirling through him.

The bar had a good crowd going now, people rowdy and happy, but as Raylan walked the metaphorical sea parted for him all the same, if only because most of the people he passed turned to watch him go. Tim could hardly blame them; no one should look as good in double denim as Raylan managed to, but Tim was getting used to the injustices of the world. 

By the time he’d made it outside Raylan was already in his car and Tim slid into the passenger seat with a sigh. Raylan cranked the stereo up and tore out of the lot, tires flicking up gravel around them; he didn’t keep up false pretenses by asking for Tim’s address and it made Tim smile, even if he did turn his face to the window so Raylan wouldn’t see it.

Tim wanted to say something, but he didn’t even know where to start. _Why did you scare that guy off? Why did Rachel really leave? Why did you touch my neck like that?_ The idea of actually hearing what Raylan might say in response to any of those questions kept Tim’s mouth closed and his head tilted against the cool glass of the window. 

That didn’t stop him from noticing it every single time that Raylan took his eyes off of the road to rest them on Tim instead; the hairs on his arms were standing to attention, like some kind of Raylan-specific spidey sense. He was so dialled in to every little move that Raylan was making - hands shifting on the steering wheel, the creak of leather when he moved in his seat - that Tim actually heard it when Raylan opened his mouth to speak. Before he could stop himself he tensed, like his instincts thought he should be bracing for an attack right now. 

“That guy back at the bar…” And Raylan trailed off, like he was hoping Tim would interject. Tim had no plans of doing that when he felt like he couldn’t breathe and Raylan sighed, the silence dragging on for another handful of seconds before he managed to force out, “Would you have -”

Tim’s heart was resting somewhere in the vicinity of his throat, but when an end to Raylan’s question didn’t seem forthcoming he let his head roll to the side, all the better to see the way Raylan’s hands were tight around the wheel and his gaze trained resolutely on the road, his mouth pursed with something that Tim was hoping wasn’t disgust. Maybe it _was_ a homophobia thing after all and a sour kind of emotion rose up in Tim’s throat, unpleasantly hot.

Sarcastic indifference was his tried and true form of defence when he didn’t have a gun in his hand and Tim fell back on it happily, smiling in a way that was more a baring of teeth than anything approaching amusement. “Would I have let him buy a drink?” He waited for Raylan’s stiff nod. “I don’t see why not.”

Raylan sighed sharp and short and darted his eyes in Tim’s direction, gaze flicking quickly over Tim before he looked back at the road. Tim was deliberately keeping his emotions - worry, panic, _fear,_ \- off of his face but it wasn’t like Raylan was operating with an untrained eye; if he looked hard enough, he’d see exactly what Tim was thinking. Raylan’s jaw ticked. “You know that’s not what he really wanted.”

Oh, so they _were_ going to talk about it. Well, Tim was happy to play ball. He shifted in his seat to face Raylan as best he could, one knee bent and the other stretched out in front of him. Faux-relaxed. “Say that’s not what he wanted, Raylan. I might’ve still let him.”

It was fascinating to watch Raylan’s hands tighten further on the wheel and the tick of his jaw become more pronounced as he ground his teeth together. What did Raylan have to be angry about? Tim was mostly messing with him because even if he had let that guy buy him a drink, he wouldn’t have trusted him enough to agree to anything else. Raylan had no way of knowing that, though. 

Hell, Tim was only finding this out about himself as the minutes went by.

Raylan let Tim’s words hang in the air for far longer than was strictly comfortable. When Raylan finally spoke again, his voice was much quieter than it had been. “But you’re not… you don’t -”

Whether his attraction to men extended beyond Raylan or not, it was likely that Tim would never act on it. Just because liking men wasn’t considered the most heinous thing possible anymore by wider America didn’t mean that it would fly here in Kentucky, even if Tim felt comfortable putting money on Art and Rachel not giving a shit. Tim considered Raylan to be the pinnacle of red blooded male heterosexuality but he sounded confused, not grossed out, and it was making Tim feel brave. 

Brave enough to muster up the resolve to say, far more casual than he really felt, “I don’t what, Raylan? Like men?” Raylan hesitated, then he gave a jerky nod. Tim couldn’t remember the last time Raylan had blinked and he almost wanted to ask Raylan to look at him. To _tell_ him to look at him. Instead Tim just shrugged, like this entire conversation wasn’t making him want to throw himself out of car. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Now seems as good a time as any to find out.”

“Oh.” 

It wasn’t exactly the answer that Tim was expecting but it wasn’t anger, wasn’t hatred, and that felt like a win. Raylan was a good man, Tim knew that in his bones, but once the words had left his mouth he’d been worried, just for a second, that Raylan might see him differently. And maybe Raylan did, but it was hard to tell when he looked like his strings had been cut. His shoulders were loose and he wasn’t white-knuckling the steering wheel anymore; there was a slight crease between his eyebrows and his mouth was parted, which Tim found more distracting than he should have.

The urge to scramble out of the car and lock himself inside his house when Raylan parked on the gravel out front not two minutes later was strong, but Tim wasn’t a fucking quitter and he sure as shit wasn’t a coward. It was still easier to feel confident when Raylan actually looked over at him, making eye contact and everything, his gaze just as clear and steady as it always was.

Tim still waited to speak until he could trust his voice to stay steady. “If you’re still game, I’m pretty sure I’ve got a bottle of bourbon somewhere.”

Good man or not, Tim didn’t think he would blame Raylan if he begged off and said that he’d better get an early night after all. The relief when Raylan turned off the car and grinned at him was strong enough that Tim slumped slightly further into his seat, uncaring right then if Raylan noticed. “Can’t refuse an offer like that, can I?”

Tim grinned back at him and they got out of the car, Raylan following him to the front door that Tim was impressed he managed to open in one go; his hands weren’t shaking but it felt like they maybe should be. Tim toed off his shoes and heard Raylan do the same as he walked down the hallway, flicking on lights as he went. Raylan had never been to his place before and would no doubt be scoping out everything that there was to see, what little of it there was. His furniture was old but comfortable and there wasn’t much clutter; the Rangers had taught him to keep his space clean and like most things he’d learned during that period, it had stuck.

Tim found two clean glasses and the bottle of bourbon he’d promised and wandered into the living room, sitting on one couch and gesturing Raylan to the one opposite when he followed him in. It should have been awkward to sit in silence after the conversation they’d just stumbled through in the car but it felt strangely comfortable; they both sipped at their drinks as the clock ticked on the wall, five minutes going by uninterrupted.

The only thing out of the ordinary was that Raylan had gone from not looking at Tim at all to looking at Tim exclusively, his eyes warm and almost speculative between sips from his glass. There wasn’t really anything for Tim to do besides look at him right back and he let his eyes wander over Raylan’s long legs and the way his shoulders filled out the shirt he was wearing. When Raylan took off his hat and sat it on the couch beside him Tim looked at the way that Raylan’s hair was just beginning to touch the tops of his ears and fall across his forehead, making him look roguishly handsome. 

It became nearly impossible to look away from Raylan at all when he started tonguing at his bottom lip, his eyes speculative as he kept on staring at Tim, his drink most of the way gone now.

It would be a lot easier not to squirm underneath the scrutiny if Tim didn’t know that Raylan was looking at him the same way he’d been looking at the women back at the bar. In the hopes of soothing his nerves Tim made the mistake of throwing back the remainder of his bourbon - which he _still_ didn’t like - and he watched as Raylan did the same, rolling his empty glass in his large hands once before he put it on the coffee table.

When Raylan followed that up by looking at him from beneath his eyelashes, Tim couldn’t take it any longer. Being trained in how to withstand _torture_ had been easier than this. “Raylan -”

Raylan stood up with one hip cocked and Tim cut himself off, watching as Raylan spread his hands with his palms upward, like he felt like he needed to placate Tim. _Tim_ felt like he was in the middle of a really fucking strange fever dream. After sitting quietly, hearing Raylan speak in that ridiculously smooth drawl of his was even worse than usual. “Tim… I want to try something, but I’m gonna have to ask you not to shoot me.”

That didn’t exactly inspire confidence, but it did land Tim back in a realm he actually felt comfortable in: banter. He spread his hands in a mirror of Raylan’s, though he didn’t stand from where he was sitting with one socked foot on the couch and one on the floor, his body open and relaxed. Nothing like the prey to Raylan’s predator. “I’m not armed.”

Raylan laughed, warm and low, and gave Tim a look that told him exactly how much Raylan trusted that. Tim grinned and dropped his hands to his thighs. “You can ask, but I can’t make any promises.” 

They both let that hang in the air.

A million possible outcomes to this situation they’d found themselves in were chasing each other around in Tim’s head, each one more insane than the last. If he was thinking rationally - and he knew that he was - there was really only one place that this could be going. Tim’s heart was hammering in his chest because he could see Raylan’s conviction from a handful of feet away; no matter where this went, it didn’t feel like they were playing a game of gay chicken. And if he was wrong and that’s what it turned out to be, Tim _would_ shoot Raylan.

Like he’d decided to spare him the agony of waiting for something to happen, Raylan rounded the coffee table to stand in front of him, his head haloed by the light he was inadvertently shielding Tim’s eyes from.

Something a lot like anticipation was buzzing underneath Tim’s skin. Raylan’s gaze on him was as heated as it was uncertain but if Tim wasn’t a coward neither was Raylan; he made his move, for a degree of _making a move_. He placed a knee between Tim’s legs and gripped the back of the couch as he bent low over him, hair falling in his face with the motion, and Tim couldn’t stop his breath from audibly catching in his throat. He was glad that he hadn’t automatically closed his eyes when he saw Raylan’s pupils blow wide at the sound and god, this was really happening and there wouldn’t be any going back and what if he didn’t like men at all and this was a huge - 

Raylan’s voice was as sweet as fucking honey. “Promise not to shoot me?”

“Oh, fuck it.” Tim fisted a hand in Raylan’s stupidly well-fitting grey Henley and yanked him bodily against him. Raylan landed with a grunt and thankfully avoided elbowing Tim anywhere important, which meant that Tim had all of his faculties when he gripped Raylan by the back of the neck and hauled him close enough to mash their mouths together. 

They froze at the same time, their mouths slanted against each other and their noses mashed together more than they weren’t. Neither of them had closed their eyes and Tim could see as well as feel how tense Raylan was holding himself, his muscles practically quivering with it. When he remembered he was essentially holding Raylan hostage with his hand around the back of his neck Tim let go and Raylan pulled away immediately.

Dread pooled in Tim’s gut with every inch that separated them. If Raylan took a swing at him right now Tim thought that he’d let him, he felt so pathetic. Only Raylan didn’t look angry, he looked _curious._ A curious Givens was a dangerous Givens, Tim had found, and this occasion didn’t seem any different. Raylan nodded once to himself, seemingly decisive, before he declared to the room at large, “No, we’re trying that again.” 

Raylan leant forward at the same time that he cupped the side of Tim’s neck, his hand landing on the exact same spot he’d had it on what felt like a lifetime ago, only this time his thumb rubbed at the hinge of Tim’s jaw. The touch made Tim’s mouth part and that’s how Raylan’s lips found him, his mouth slotting against Tim's soft and hot and really fucking good, actually, as far as first kisses went. God, a _first kiss._ Like they were fucking high schoolers trapped in a closet together or something.

Which was a little too appropriate, considering.

Before Tim could even get used to the feeling Raylan was pulling away again. Tim would have been disappointed if he couldn’t see how _not_ grossed out Raylan looked, his eyes dark when they fell to where Tim’s mouth was still parted. The room felt eerily silent around them and Tim had no idea what the next move was; Raylan’s hand was still on his neck and it _felt_ deliberate, but Raylan could have just as easily forgotten that it was there.

Seconds ticked by without either of them making a move towards or away from each other. 

Had that been all Raylan had wanted to try? He’d planted one on Tim. Did that conclude whatever was happening? Tim didn’t think he was okay with that. Kissing Raylan had been alright so far but it had been _chaste,_ hardly memorable. If Tim was doing this, he wanted to know what the women of Kentucky were on about when they undressed Raylan with their eyes. He wanted to know what kept Winona coming back when it seemed like she’d finally sworn Raylan off for good.

It was convenient, then, that Tim knew Raylan like he did. Because it meant that he had a pretty good idea of what to do and say to get the reaction he was after, namely Raylan’s mouth back on his, and a way of finding out just how far down the potential jealousy and possessiveness Raylan had shown off back at the bar ran.

Tim met Raylan’s eyes and relaxed into his grip at the same time as he tilted his chin up, as much as the hand on his neck would allow. The movement made Raylan’s hand spasm against his skin and Tim watched as Raylan’s eyes fell to his mouth again, apparently transfixed. Should he feel powerful? Tim felt powerful. Raylan dragged his thumb along the corded muscle of Tim’s neck. “Tim -”

“Is that all you’ve got?” _That_ cut off whatever Raylan had been about to say pretty effectively; Raylan’s narrowed eyes met Tim’s own and he smothered the grin that wanted to take over his face. “Because I think the guy at the bar -”

The sound Raylan let out as he surged forward to kiss Tim a second - third? - time was more akin to a growl than he might have anticipated, but there was no opportunity to think about it when all he could focus on was opening his mouth under Raylan’s and not making an embarrassing noise at the first touch of Raylan’s tongue against his own. 

If Tim had ever let himself entertain the concept of Raylan and sex, _this_ is how he would have thought Raylan would kiss. Deep, and hungry, and all-consuming, like Raylan had something to prove. Raylan’s mouth tasted like bourbon but Tim figured that his did too but that thought was secondary to the hope that he was giving back as good as he was getting; he only realized he had his hand curved around the back of Raylan’s neck again when he felt soft hair against his fingertips. 

Just when breathing was becoming a real issue Raylan finally relented, pulling away just far enough that they could both suck in desperate gulps of air. The thumb Raylan rubbed against Tim’s neck this time felt shakier and Tim laughed, slightly hysterical, before he let himself tilt into the touch a little. “Fuck.”

Raylan pressed his answering grin against Tim’s cheek. “Better than the guy at the bar?”

God, screw letting the guy at the bar buy him a drink: Tim was going to owe _him_ one. He turned his head and caught Raylan’s lips with his own, kissing him again because he felt like it. Because it felt good, and because Raylan wasn’t pulling away. He murmured his answer against Raylan’s mouth. “Who?”

It felt like the right thing to say when Raylan hummed and kissed him again, nice and slick and deep, hard enough to press Tim into the back of the couch. Tim let it happen, and then he kept letting it happen until his face was buzzing from Raylan’s stubble and it was getting harder to swallow his noises down. The room was so silent around them that the sound of their mouths meeting felt loud, felt wet, and his already tight pants were getting dangerously close to cutting off circulation to some pretty important areas. Which got Tim to thinking… 

Raylan went when Tim nudged him away, looking more dazed than hurt at the distance between them; he wasn’t interpreting the movement as Tim rejecting him. And why would he? Tim probably looked half-fucked already. If this was how Raylan kissed everybody, maybe Tim understood what women saw in him after all. 

Ten minutes of necking on the couch pretty much guaranteed that they both liked men, which was something he definitely hadn’t seen coming, but kissing Raylan wasn’t exactly getting Tim’s attraction to him out of his system. If anything he was only more aware of Raylan and all of the space he took up; he was sure as shit more interested in seeing Raylan wearing far fewer clothes.

Tim squirmed away and stood, wincing when the new position squeezed his dick painfully. He reached down to adjust himself and Raylan was on him in an instant, cupping both sides of Tim’s neck and tipping his face up to better get at his mouth, kissing him even hungrier than before. Raylan bit his bottom lip as he pulled away and Tim swore as he swayed into him, his body lighting up everywhere that they were touching. 

Raylan’s eyes were black pools. “Now, I have a suggestion, but you’ve gotta promise -”

Fingers curled in Raylan’s belt loops were a great way to pull him closer, their hips bumping together in a way that had them both gasping when Raylan’s half hard dick pressing against his own. Tim grazed his teeth along Raylan’s stupidly sharp jaw and nipped at the thin skin there, soothing the hurt with an open mouthed kiss. “Raylan, I’m only gonna shoot you if you stop.”

Tim released Raylan and moved towards the other couch, picking Raylan’s hat up to put it on as he went. He was halfway down the hallway to his room when he turned and saw Raylan standing dumbly where he’d left him, mouth parted and his gaze burning into him. Tim was thankful that he was probably standing too far away for Raylan to see just what that image did to him, namely the way it made his dick jerk within the confines of his pants. “Coming, Raylan?”

How Raylan could go from looking so out of it to stalking towards Tim with predatory grace he didn’t know, but he spun in place and started making for his room with full awareness of the fact that Raylan was going to get to him first, unless he ran.

Tim didn’t want to run.

Feeling six feet of undeniably male body pressing all along his back was electrifying, like all of his nerve endings were sparking at once. Then Raylan lowered his head so that he could press hot kisses along Tim’s neck and all Tim could hear for a handful of seconds was pure white noise, though one thought did stand out from the rest: _fuck,_ this was gonna be good.


	3. three.

**raylan -**

There were a lot of things that had gotten Raylan into trouble throughout his life. His bullheadedness was one, he knew, and Winona had mentioned his temper often enough that he could acknowledge that it often factored into his decision making process. And while those things had caused him more than enough strife, the one thing that got him into the _most_ trouble was his inability to do anything halfway.

That being said, Raylan had never been fonder of that one particular personality trait than right at the present moment. Because right now he had Tim Gutterson plastered to his front, and he was doing his damndest not to moan as Raylan sucked kisses onto his neck that he’d struggle to hide behind a shirt collar tomorrow. Raylan didn’t think he’d ever heard a sweeter sound, which definitely wasn’t a thought that he’d ever expected would enter his mind.

When he’d left his shithole apartment - because he _did_ know it was a shithole apartment, thanks _everyone_ \- this morning, Raylan never could have anticipated that this is where his day was going to go. Sure, the getting shot at by a fugitive part was sort of expected. Tim saving his bacon wasn’t that out of the ordinary either, even if him doing so with not one but _two_ perfectly executed shots was. 

Raylan’s reaction to Tim doing that was where things started to travel off course. Because now? With Tim panting against him, pressing into the hold that Raylan had on him? Now Raylan could recognize that the urge to find Tim afterwards, the urge to touch him, had stemmed from the undercurrent of arousal that watching Tim take someone out had sent roaring through his bloodstream. The arousal at watching Tim take someone out _for him_ , specifically. 

Of course, Raylan knew better than to tell anyone that.

The man in question chose that moment to wrench free of his grip and Raylan let him go, watching as Tim put a measly two steps of space between them before he turned around. Someone Raylan’s hat was still sitting steady on Tim’s head and the sight sent something dark and hungry feeling through Raylan. Not to mention that the grin Tim directed his way had Raylan’s dick throbbing within the confines of his jeans. “What, are you tryin’ to maul me?”

Tim still sounded like Tim, and for some reason that made Raylan laugh. This entire situation was so ridiculous but there wasn’t anywhere else he wanted to be, and Raylan was guessing by the bulge in Tim’s jeans that he felt the same. “And if I am?”

The onceover Tim gave him with those damned eyes of his felt like a physical touch and Raylan watching as Tim bit his lower lip, his mouth so pink that Raylan could barely look away from it. His hands twitched at his sides with the urge to just _touch._ Tim started walking backwards, his steps sure and confident. “At least wait until we’re in the bedroom, you fuckin’ animal.”

How did Tim know exactly what to say to make Raylan burn impossibly hotter? More to the point, how was he ever going to be able to look at Tim the same way after this? He definitely should have thought of that sooner, but right now Raylan really didn’t care.

When Raylan started to advance on Tim, his longer legs eating up space quicker than Tim could walk backwards, Tim laughed. Like Raylan was doing exactly what he’d expected him to do, like he was playing right into his hands. And maybe he was. Raylan was either incredibly easy to read or Tim knew him better than he’d been letting on; if he were a betting man, Raylan would probably go with door number two. They crossed the threshold into Tim’s bedroom at virtually the same moment and Raylan allowed himself the barest glance around; it seemed warmer, more lived in, than the rest of Tim’s house. That wasn’t as important to Raylan as reaching out for Tim’s waist was, and when his hands landed he had the singular pleasure of watching Tim tilt his head up, his mouth open and inviting, before Raylan had even begun to lean down.

It made something hot and possessive curl low in his gut and Raylan groaned as he kissed Tim, licking into his mouth and carding his fingers through Tim’s hair. It was softer than he thought it would be and when he knocked Tim’s hat - _his_ hat - loose, Tim pulled away from him to look down at it. “I have plans for that hat.” With Tim’s head turned as it was, Raylan had the perfect opportunity to start pressing kisses against his neck again. Tim’s sigh and soft exhalation of “ _fuck,_ ” buzzed pleasantly against Raylan’s mouth.

Raylan pulled away for a moment, just far enough to ask, “And what plans were they?” That’s what he meant to say, anyway, only Tim was sliding his hands into the back pockets of Raylan’s jeans to drag him close and Raylan groaned instead, the sound hitching in his throat when Tim rolled their hips together hard enough that he saw stars.

Then Tim froze. 

Raylan did too, his thoughts running away from him faster than he could get a grip on them. What if feeling the concrete - _ha_ \- evidence of Raylan’s arousal had served as a cold reminder to Tim that he was kissing a man? If Tim wanted to stop Raylan would respect it but he also thought that not following this particular thread to its end might just kill him. Or maybe he was panicking for no reason, seeing as Tim hadn’t put a single inch of space between them. “Tim?”

Tim turned his head so that his mouth grazed Raylan’s earlobe when he answered him; the touch sent goosebumps racing across his arms. “Jesus christ, Raylan, I know you’re happy to see me, but is that a fuckin' _rifle_ in your pocket?”

It was just about the last thing Raylan was expecting him to say and he could only blink dazedly while he processed what Tim _really_ meant by the words: Tim wasn’t about to back out, he was maybe just a little concerned about what it was exactly that he was getting himself into. The wave of relief that knocked into him was strong enough that Raylan huffed out a laugh, hands tightening briefly on Tim’s waist. 

This was a conversation that Raylan had had often enough that he knew the steps well, even if he’d never had to walk them with a man before. He figured that the same rules applied and he leaned into Tim, warm and reassuring against him. “We don’t have to do everything, or _anything_ even, it’s fi-”

 _Now_ Tim pulled away from him, but only as far as his bed a handful of steps behind him. He flopped back on it, propped up on his elbows with his legs spread in those fucking pornographically tight jeans, and Raylan was staring at him like Tim was water in a desert. He should stop doing that, probably, but from the way Tim was staring back at him, Raylan didn’t think he minded any. Tim was also talking, so Raylan let his eyes wander from Tim’s thighs up to his face. 

“Do I look like a pussy to you?”

Hearing that word coming out of Tim’s mouth definitely shouldn’t be making Raylan’s dick twitch, but it was a weird night. “...no?” 

Tim sat up and reached behind his head to pull his shirt off and Raylan definitely felt fucking parched; his mouth was the sahara. Tim’s torso was all smooth skin and compact muscle, surprisingly defined biceps and abs and a slightly soft stomach that Raylan wanted - _needed_ \- to sink his teeth into. The tattoo he’d seen peeking out of Tim’s shirt that night he’d helped them get into the VA bar was a fleur de lis, stark black against his pale skin. Raylan’s hands were twitching at his sides again. “ _Tim -_ ”

“Show me, Raylan.”

Screeching tires, car crash, silence. Raylan couldn’t form a thought, because Tim was leaning back on one elbow now while he slid his free hand down his body to grab his dick through his jeans, eyelids fluttering slightly at the pressure. Raylan swayed forward with the urge to do _something_ and he didn’t think he’d ever been this turned on in his entire goddamn life _._ “What?”

It was obvious when Tim pressed his thumb against the head of his dick by the way he gasped and tipped his head back, his hips lifting up off of the bed. Raylan almost bit through his own fucking lip at the picture Tim made, erotic without even really trying. When Tim looked at Raylan again, the blue of his eyes looked almost entirely eaten up by the black of his pupils. “I wanna see it, Raylan. Show me your stupid big dick.”

Tim Gutterson was trying to kill him.

If that was true, Raylan figured that there were plenty of worse ways to go. He reached for the hem of his shirt but paused before he lifted the fabric at all. “You want a show, or?” Tim tilted his head like he was actually considering it and Raylan didn’t know whether he wanted to smile or weep, so attuned to everything Tim was doing. Even more willing to listen to whatever came out of his mouth.

Tim took pity on him, shaking his head. “Nah.”

All the better, because if Raylan didn’t kiss Tim again soon, or finally get his hands on some of that bare skin he couldn’t look away from, he might actually lose his mind. He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it onto the floor, pushing his hair out of his face when it fell forward. It was a good thing that he’d taken his boots off at the front door, because they were a bitch to get off in a hurry. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me.” Tim sounded so exasperated that Raylan couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at him, confused and amused in turn. Tim was staring at his torso, though, his gaze hot and almost reverential. “God, Raylan, the way you look…” 

And Raylan didn’t have to wonder if Tim was messing with him - Raylan was in shape, but he knew he could probably afford to work out a little more - because the hunger in Tim’s eyes was so evident as they continued to trace over his chest, down his stomach, back up to his arms. Raylan had heard the same comment in one way or another from his fair share of women but it still turned him on just the same; he’d also been told just how deadly his smirk was, whatever that meant, and he deliberately turned one on Tim to see if that particular rule still applied.

“Aw, you’re just sayin’ that,” but his hands were working frantically at his belt, the buckle sounding overly loud in the room. It got drowned out by the zipper of his jeans and he shoved the material down his legs, his arousal winning out against any desire he might have to look composed. 

Usually, if he were at his own apartment, he would have just taken his jeans and underwear down in one go. And while Tim had said that he didn’t want a show, there was maybe part of Raylan that wanted to give him one anyway, just a little. Having Tim look at him like he was - hungry and hot and wanting, his arousal obvious - was different to women looking at him the same way, even if Raylan wasn’t sure how. All he knew was that he wanted _more_ of it. 

Raylan toyed with the waistband of his underwear, which were virtually the most boring black briefs he owned, watching Tim watch him do it. With the way his dick was distorting the fabric, swollen head a quarter inch from being on display, the fabric was barely a formality at this point, but Raylan figured the slow reveal would still be worth it. The hand that Tim had been rubbing his dick with was now clenched in the bed sheets but if Raylan had to guess, it wasn’t because Tim was any _less_ turned on.

That suspicion was confirmed when Tim undid his own belt and began the laborious process of working his jeans down his legs, which looked to be quite the task considering that they were tight enough they may as well have been painted on. 

Raylan had always harbored a sneaking suspicion that Tim was more muscular than you might think at first glance and getting a look at the pale skin of his legs as they were slowly revealed told him that he was right, Tim’s calves and thighs nicely defined and as untouched by the sun as the rest of him. Tim’s dick was straining the material of his own underwear - blue briefs not dissimilar to Raylan’s own - and even with the fabric blocking his view Raylan knew his own dick was bigger, even if he didn’t know why the notion pleased him so much.

For the second time in five minutes, the sound of Tim’s voice reminded Raylan that it was rude to stare. “You gonna make me say please?”

That sent a pure bolt of heat directly to Raylan’s dick and he wasn’t proud of it even as he kept his smirk on his face; it felt like they were playing a game of cat and mouse, but it was the kind of game where he was beginning to think that Tim _wanted_ to get caught. It was filling Raylan with the kind of heady anticipation that told him that they ever made it to the main event, it was going to be fucking incredible. He didn’t say any of that; he just shrugged and smirked wider. “Not today.”

It was impossible to miss the way his words made Tim’s breath catch. If they ever did this again - like he’d just inadvertently implied they would be, jesus christ, - he’d have to look a little closer at that, but for now he let it go. It would be cruel to move as slow as he might like with the way all of Tim’s attention was focused on him so Raylan just went for it, hooking his thumbs underneath the elastic waistband of his briefs and pulling them down, the fabric tugging over his stiff dick enough to make him hiss out a breath.

It was almost comical, the way Tim’s eyes widened. Tim tongued at his bottom lip and Raylan didn’t think it was deliberate - more instinctual, which was somehow _worse_ \- but it had Raylan’s dick jerking anyway, a kick of movement that made Tim swear before he flopped onto his back and covered his eyes with his hands; he groaned and Raylan wanted to laugh, but not _at_ him. Tim was pretty fucking cute, was all.

“So much -- no, your _entire_ personality makes more sense to me now. What are you, seven inches? Eight? How do you even fit that in your pants, Raylan?” 

Raylan shrugged heedless of the fact that Tim couldn’t see it. “I’m a grower.”

“I hate you so much.” Tim sat up again, his abs rippling with the movement, and then he just stared unblinkingly at Raylan’s dick for a moment. Eventually Tim nodded to himself and pointed at Raylan’s hat where it’d been discarded on the floor “You’re going to put that on, and then you're comin’ over here.”

It was likely no one would believe him if he said so, but Raylan _was_ capable of following directions… when it suited him. He bent to pick up his hat and sat it on his head before he ambled over to Tim, his dick bobbing obscenely as he went. Only when he tried to get onto the bed _with_ Tim, a hand on his hip stopped him. 

“No you don’t.” Tim slid his hand from Raylan’s hip to his dick, circling the base of it with his fingers in a sure grip that had Raylan seeing double even before he dragged his hand up, thumb rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves beneath the head. It was all Raylan could do to grip Tim’s shoulders to stop himself from bending double as his hips jerked forward.

“Oh _fuck,_ ” was about all Raylan could manage in the moment, his dick throbbing in Tim’s hand. It was nothing like a woman touching him, Raylan knew that pretty much straight away. Where a woman’s hand - Ava’s, or Winona’s, or Lindsey’s - was soft, Tim had gun calluses that caught against the sensitive skin of his shaft in the best way. Then there was the fact that women were tentative at first, unsure of what they were doing. 

It could be a fluke, but Tim’s grip was near to perfect on the first try; Raylan was still seeing more stars than he’d like to admit to.

“Not yet, Raylan.” That sent what little of Raylan’s blood supply that wasn’t already in his dick south, because if Tim was saying what he thought he was... The thought of fucking Tim - of Tim _letting_ him - was enough to have Raylan thrusting his hips forward again, and Tim laughed at him because he was awful. Then he started to play with Raylan’s foreskin, because he was _evil_. “Huh. That’s fun.”

Before Raylan could form a thought let alone reply, Tim bent forward and took the head of Raylan’s dick into the warmth of his mouth. Then all he could do was groan and try not to fuck forward, or squeeze Tim’s shoulders too tightly with his hands. Tim bobbed his head down an inch, two, and moved his hand around Raylan’s dick at the same time. He was being cautious about it and the idea that Tim was feeling him out, getting used to the feeling of a dick - _Raylan’s_ dick - in his mouth was almost too hot to bear. Tim tongued at his shaft and Raylan sighed, toes curling in the carpet. 

Watching Tim suck him off was almost better than _feeling_ it. Tim had his eyes closed, a furrow of concentration between his brows, and Raylan could already see that his mouth was a deeper shade of pink than it was usually. Arousal was pooling in Raylan’s belly but he also knew that Tim would have to work harder, would have to take him in deeper, if he wanted to make him come. Like he knew that too, Tim eventually pulled back, the sound as he did so lewd and wet. When he pressed a kiss to the head of Raylan’s dick, Raylan groaned. 

“Was this your suggestion?” Tim kept his eyes locked with Raylan’s as he tongued at his slit like he was chasing the taste of Raylan’s precome, jerking him off at the same time, and Raylan swore. It was hard enough to keep his eyes open, so trying to figure out what Tim was talking about was well out of the realm of his abilities right now.

“What?”

“You said you had a suggestion, before. Was gettin’ me on my knees with your dick in my mouth the suggestion, Raylan?” Tim emphasized his question by sucking Raylan back into his mouth, bobbing his head down nearly half way before Raylan felt Tim’s throat fluttering around his length; Tim pulled back to breathe heavily, blinking up at Raylan like he wasn’t doing anything untoward. What did Raylan look like, to Tim? Naked except for his hat? Judging by the damp patch Raylan could see on Tim’s briefs, almost moulded to the head of Tim’s dick, he looked pretty fucking good.

It wasn’t that Raylan wasn’t enjoying what was going on. He was _really_ enjoying it, the head of his dick slick from precome as much as it was from Tim’s mouth. It wasn’t even that Tim’s confidence - because he _was_ confident right now, Raylan’s dick in his hand - wasn’t doing it for him. It was just that he wanted to hear _Tim_ moan. 

Tim was usually so put together and even now, screwing around with a man for the first time, he wasn’t any different. Raylan could admit to himself that he wanted to make a mess of Tim, to make him so turned on that he couldn’t keep his cool anymore. Whatever suggestion he might have had before was gone from his mind - or sucked out of his dick, he wasn’t sure - but it didn’t take long to think of something else. He grinned down at Tim, watching in fascination as Tim’s cheeks colored and his eyes got impossibly darker. 

“Honestly? I can’t remember.” Tim snorted and Raylan finally took a hand off of his shoulder to cup Tim’s face instead, pressing his thumb against the swell of his bottom lip. When Tim’s breath hitched, Raylan felt it. “But I’m sure I can think of something.” Raylan used the hand he still had on Tim’s shoulder to nudge him backwards and Tim pouted for a brief moment before he let himself be moved back onto the bed properly, arranging himself against the pillows. 

The urge to crawl up over him was strong - he couldn’t think of many things he’d ever wanted more - but Raylan looked his fill for a moment instead. 

Raylan had never considered the possibility that he might be attracted to men before but there was no denying that he was now, not when the sight of Tim on the bed, naked and hard for him, was making his blood sing. Tim was all strong muscle and smooth skin, nothing like the women he usually gravitated towards, yet there wasn’t a single part of Raylan that was panicking right now, or telling him to stop. He was too turned on for that, and far too focused on making this good for Tim. 

If there was ever a time to lean into his inability to do anything halfway, it was now; any crises of sexuality, if they decided to happen at all, could wait.

Tim was just opening his mouth - to complain, Raylan guessed - when Raylan tossed his hat onto the sheets beside Tim and got onto the bed, reaching out to grip Tim’s legs. He ran his palms over the muscle he found there and before he could even ask, Tim was spreading his legs to make room for Raylan to lie between them. The feeling of his dick pressing against the sheets was enough to make him gasp, to lose himself in shifting in place for a moment for just a small amount of relief.

When Tim let out a choked noise Raylan looked up at him to see that he was back to biting his lip, staring down at Raylan with wide eyes. Raylan squeezed Tim’s thighs and then rubbed at the soft skin with his thumbs, smiling up at Tim like nothing was out of the ordinary. “Any complaints so far?”

Tim groaned, the muscles in his thighs bunching and then relaxing when he tensed his legs. “You’re such a dick.” Raylan dug his thumbs into the soft skin at the inside of Tim’s thighs and Tim laughed, shaking his head in answer to Raylan’s question as his cheeks darkened. It was like Tim couldn’t help but toe at the line and it made Raylan grin at the same time as it turned him on even hotter; it was just another thing to put in the column of ‘come back to’, if they found themselves here again. Then he considered his options. He didn’t have much of a plan beyond getting his mouth on Tim and seeing where things went from there, but as for getting Tim out of his underwear? Raylan had some ideas that he thought Tim might like.

If someone had told Raylan when he got out of bed this morning that come nightfall he’d be about suck a dick - that he’d _want_ to suck a dick - he probably wouldn’t have believed it. Yet here he was, his face inches away from Tim’s hard dick, and he couldn’t deny that his mouth was watering. Tim’s eyes were laser focused on him and it looked like he was barely breathing; the ball was in Raylan’s court, here. He knew that what he was about to do was definitely a little mean but Raylan had a feeling that Tim could take it. That he might even enjoy it.

Raylan smoothed his hands up Tim’s thighs again, then he leaned down to breathe hotly over where the fabric of Tim’s briefs was taught against the damp head of his dick. It was a suggestion of touch at best but Tim swore as his hips jerked upwards and Raylan rode out the motion, moving out of the way just in time. His own dick pulsed against the sheets. Raylan didn’t give Tim time to settle back down before he was pressing his mouth against his dick in earnest, sucking at it lightly through precome-soaked cotton.

“Jesus _christ,_ Raylan!” Tim sounded more overwhelmed than Raylan had ever heard him and he smiled against Tim’s dick before he mouthed at it some more, dragging his lips along the shaft as Tim squirmed beneath him. Even through Tim’s briefs Raylan could taste his precome and it was erotic in a way that he hadn’t expected it to be and he closed his eyes to better appreciate it, squeezing Tim’s thighs as he moved back up to the head of Tim’s dick, sucking it through fabric that was becoming wetter by the second. Tim arched upwards like he couldn’t help it, his voice quavering. “Off, take them off, you fucking _asshole,_ ”

Raylan could say with absolute certainty that he’d never been happier to be called an asshole. The needy thread in Tim’s voice was like music to his ears and it helped to narrow his focus to every point that they were touching, his own overheated skin pressed against Tim’s; it grounded him in the moment pleasantly and Raylan knew he’d be thinking of this again, when he was alone with his right hand. It was true that Raylan was an asshole, but he wasn’t going to make Tim ask him twice. He raised himself up onto his elbows and grabbed at the waistband of Tim’s briefs, Tim lifting his hips off of the bed at the same time as his hands joined in one the effort to push them down his legs faster.

Raylan’s first real look at Tim’s dick hit him like a gut punch and he held his breath and stared far longer than was strictly polite. It was an average size, thicker than it was long, cut where Raylan’s dick wasn’t, and it looked about hard enough to pound a nail. Now he could _see_ the precome he’d been able to taste and Raylan could barely think with the need coursing through him. Tasting Tim’s dick through his underwear hadn’t been enough; Raylan needed to feel him. He threw Tim’s underwear blindly over his shoulder and leaned down to take Tim’s dick into his mouth, his eyes closing at the taste of precome and clean skin.

Tim groaned from above him, shifting enough to plant his feet on the sheets, and Raylan was surrounded by muscle. He panicked slightly, worried that Tim was about to thrust up into his mouth, only when he grabbed for Tim’s thighs again he could feel just how tense Tim was holding himself, his muscles almost quivering with it. It sent a bolt of warmth through Raylan. Every man knew polite blow job etiquette and Tim was likely just observing it, but Raylan couldn’t help but hope that Tim was trying to be good for him right now.

Now Raylan was the one groaning as he took Tim further into his mouth, figuring out the best way to breathe and suck at the same time as he went. He was expecting a noise out of Tim - another groan, or a hitch in his breath, _anything_ \- but the only indication that he was sucking Tim’s dick at all was the pulse of it in his mouth and the tensing of Tim’s thighs in his grip. 

When Raylan opened his eyes and looked up he could see why: Tim was biting at the meat of his palm like he wanted to muffle any sounds that might want to come out of him. Raylan released Tim’s dick with a wet _pop_ and frowned. “Hey.”

Tim’s eyes darted down to where Raylan was situated between his legs, his cheeks flushed when he moved his hand away from his mouth. “God, why did you _stop -”_

Raylan tightened his grip on Tim’s thighs and leaned down to mouth at his shaft, testing. Tim bit his lip, his legs tensing, but didn’t make a sound. Yeah, that wasn’t gonna fly. Raylan moved his hand and curled it around the base of Tim’s dick, holding it steady as he sucked at the flushed head. Tim’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Don’t do that.”

Now Tim was the one frowning. “Do _what?_ ”

“I wanna hear you.” And Raylan sucked Tim’s dick back into his mouth, bobbing his head to take him in deeper than he had so far. His own dick was throbbing between his legs but it felt secondary to the pleasure he was drawing out of Tim. He kept his eyes on Tim and he saw the way Tim’s mouth dropped open as his eyes somehow got even darker, and the way they almost crossed when Raylan pulled back again. “Can you do that for me?”

This time, Tim _did_ fuck his hips up. Like just hearing Raylan say that was enough to turn him on so much that he couldn’t help it and maybe he couldn’t, because his dick jerked in Raylan’s hand. Raylan wanted to get his mouth back on Tim more than he thought he ever would but he wanted Tim to answer him first; he tightened his hand around Tim’s dick and Tim bit his lower lip hard enough that the flesh went white. Then he nodded. “Yeah, Raylan. I can do that for you.”

 _Good boy_ was on the tip of his tongue almost too quick for Raylan to swallow the words down. Instead of saying them and potentially ruining everything he rolled his hips against the bed instead, desperate for friction against his aching dick. He tongued at the veins of Tim’s dick and sucked him back into his mouth; Tim’s near-whine when he did was music to his ears and he sucked harder, moving his hand around what he couldn’t get his mouth on.

The thing was, he honestly had no idea where the request had come from. Raylan had never particularly cared how vocal his parters were during sex before - though he always managed to find women who were, for lack of a better word, _enthusiastic_ \- yet with Tim the idea of him staying silent for the duration felt unbearable. Raylan wanted to know that Tim was enjoying himself, that he was making Tim feel good. He _needed_ to make Tim feel good.

And while that was true, Raylan wasn’t sure that he wanted to make Tim come now. He knew that if he did Tim would probably get him back, that it would probably feel fucking fantastic. Everything he had done with Tim so far already felt so good, so separate, to anything that Raylan had experienced before, and he was a man who’d had a far few sexual partners in his lifetime. Raylan was probably thinking about it too hard, which was definitely some kind of offence when he had a dick in his mouth; letting things happen organically had been working so far, so he may as well just keep going and see where they ended up.

With that in mind Raylan redirected all of his attention and focus to the task at hand, which as far as he was concerned, was getting Tim to make as much noise as possible. Women deserved more credit for making sure their teeth were out of the way and the suction consistent because Raylan’s jaw was starting to ache already, even if he wasn’t about to let that stop him. Jerking Tim off at the same time helped and before long Tim couldn’t stop the shifting of his hips as Raylan took him in deeper and deeper, the majority of Tim’s length in his mouth more often than it wasn’t. Just feeling Tim throbbing in his mouth turned him on almost as much as hearing the bitten off moans and whimpers that Tim was letting loose did; when Raylan sucked particularly hard on his next pass, Tim groaned louder than he had so far.

“Raylan, you’ve gotta -- If you keep doing that, I’m gonna --”

The idea of Tim coming down his throat wasn’t the deterrent that Raylan thought that it might be, but it did make him realize that even while he’d be okay with mutual blowjobs being how tonight ended, he wanted more. He pulled off of Tim’s dick and Tim moaned like it felt just as good as having his dick sucked had, his hips twitching up like he was trying to follow Raylan’s mouth. Raylan grinned and mouthed at the head, the bitter salt of precome meeting his tongue. 

Tim reached down to shove at his head, hips twitching away from the touch instead of into it, and Raylan huffed out a laugh and let himself be moved. It was probably a good idea for them to slow things down a little, to take it easy; a marathon and not a sprint, and all of that. This was new for both of them and they were both liable to get overwhelmed or spooked if they just went at it like animals, no matter how much the idea might appeal to Raylan. He was beginning to think that seeing Tim naked might have awoken something in him, even if he wasn’t sure exactly _what._

Whether that was true or not, Raylan didn’t need to be thinking about it right now. No, he was too busy wondering if Tim would welcome being kissed so soon after Raylan had had his mouth on his dick; some guys were squeamish about that, even if Raylan himself loved it. Like Tim could read his mind - and Raylan wasn’t entirely certain he couldn’t - he swatted at Raylan’s head. “Get up here.”

Raylan smiled and went, deciding at the last second to lay to the side of Tim instead of directly on top of him; covering Tim with his own body would feel great, but Raylan didn’t trust himself not to try to rub off against him. Tim didn’t seem to mind, seeing as he curled a hand around the back of Raylan’s neck to bring his mouth close enough to kiss. 

Their mouths met and Raylan sank into the feeling, the kiss more languid than the ones they’d shared so far. Tim’s hand on Raylan’s neck was sure but when he pulled away he blinked up at Raylan for a handful of seconds, then a handful more. Instead of moving forward himself, deepening the kiss, Raylan just looked down at Tim. It was the first time that they hadn’t been all over each other in what felt like an hour and Raylan thought that any alcohol they’d had at the bar may as well be out of his system by now, he was seeing everything with so much clarity. He had a feeling that Tim could hold his liquor just as well as he could; any decisions they made would be entirely their own.

Which meant that he was lying naked next to Tim, a man he worked with and saw every single day, and he was currently poking him in the hip with his very hard dick. Tim was looking up at Raylan like he was having the same realization: that there was virtually no way of coming back from this, not really. Yet his hand was still on the back of Raylan’s neck, lightly playing with the strands of his hair, and Raylan was having a real hard time looking away from Tim’s mouth.

That ensured that he saw as much as heard Tim ask, his voice as low and lilted with amusement as it always was, “This is a really fuckin’ stupid idea, isn’t it?”

It was harder to look Tim in the face all of the sudden. Only looking at the rest of Tim felt just as dangerous, because how had Raylan never noticed just how muscled and capable Tim’s forearms were before now? Or the light dusting of hair that covered his chest, and the way that it darkened slightly as it traveled down his stomach? Tim still had one of his knees up and his dick was just as hard and flushed as the last time Raylan hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of it; his mouth was watering again and he worked his jaw - it ached, and he loved it - before he forced himself to drag his eyes back up the compact muscle of Tim’s body to his face.

Tim’s cheeks seemed darker, his eyes more focused on Raylan’s mouth, like watching Raylan look at him was turning him on. His thumb rubbed at the back of Raylan’s neck, warm and solid. Grounding. Raylan knew that Tim had just given him the perfect opportunity to say yes, to agree that this was a specactularly stupid idea, even by his own exacting standards. Not only that: Tim was also giving him the opportunity to return them back to normality, presumably with no hard feelings; to carry on as coworkers and friends come tomorrow morning.

Hell, Raylan even knew that Tim was right. No matter which way you looked at it, continuing on would put them past the point of no return, and anyone with half a brain would make the decision to stop.

And while that was true, the idea of doing that before either of them had gotten to the good part was one that Raylan wasn’t in the mood to entertain. “Oh, I don’t know,” and he slowly leaned down, a test almost. The gratification when Tim immediately tilted his face upwards was intense and Raylan let their mouths touch, more a graze of their lips than anything substantial enough to be truly satisfying. “I’ve done stupider things.”

Tim laughed and Raylan felt it against his mouth seconds before Tim’s grip on his neck tugged him the rest of the way down, their lips meeting in a kiss that Raylan could safely admit made his toes curl, all of the languidness of before gone. When they broke apart to breathe, Tim’s mouth changed course to press kisses along the length of Raylan’s jaw; Tim grazed his teeth over the mole there and Raylan shivered. Yeah, they were doing this. They could worry about the consequences later, or never, if Raylan had any say about it. 

The next words out of Tim’s mouth buzzed against Raylan’s neck. “Well, I’d argue you haven’t really _done_ all that much.”

They both knew that sort of comment was one that Raylan would never be able to ignore, which meant that Tim was goading him on purpose, like his comment earlier about the guy from the bar. Even thinking of that asshole now made Raylan’s blood boil, so maybe he _was_ a predictable man. He grinned and raised an eyebrow at Tim in mock challenge, slowly dragging his hand down Tim’s stomach to wrap his hand around Tim’s dick. 

“Oh?” Tim’s mouth parted and Raylan kissed him as he dragged his hand upwards, a parody of jerking Tim off. Barely a tease. He avoided the head of Tim’s dick entirely, moving his hand back down just as slow. When Tim fucked up into his grip Raylan pulled away from his mouth to smile down at him. “Tell me what you want then, Tim, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

For some reason that made Tim clench his eyes shut with a groan, his hips fucking up again. Tim extended an arm and flailed it in the direction of the nightstand without looking and Raylan smirked, feeling weirdly fond. “There’s lube in the top drawer.”

With the way Tim’s dick was leaking, Raylan didn’t need lube to slick the way. That wasn’t the only reason that Raylan had a feeling he knew what Tim was asking for but he wanted to hear Tim _say it_. The way he’d never really wanted to hear it before. “Why would I need that? Look at you.” Raylan rubbed his thumb over the head of Tim’s dick, gathering the precome there, before he dragged his hand back down smooth as anything. He didn’t think that someone could pay him to look away from Tim’s face then, waiting for his reaction. 

And what a reaction it was.

“Fucking hell, Raylan,” got pressed into the side of his neck as Tim arched upwards, which was pretty fantastic, only then Tim followed it up by _squirming._ There wasn’t any other word for it, and watching as well as feeling him do it, Raylan felt about ten feet tall. Then Tim reached down to tug Raylan’s hand off of his dick, redirectly it lower. Lower, to touch the place that had all of the moisture leaving Raylan’s mouth and his gut clenching with a bolt of arousal so strong he had to bite his lip against the moan that wanted to tear out of him. Tim didn’t sound like he was faring any better when he gasped out, “There, I -'' Raylan watched as Tim cut himself off to bite at his lip again, just like he felt Tim’s hand tighten around the back of his neck. “Please.”

The word his Raylan like a shot and he groaned, claiming Tim’s mouth in a kiss that had them both moaning, Tim pressing impossibly closer to him. The only noise in the room was the filthy wet sounds of their mouths meeting and Raylan didn’t think he’d ever been so aware of his body when kissing someone before. There was a force behind Tim’s kisses that Raylan wasn’t used to but there was no doubt in his mind that he liked it; he welcomed the idea that his mouth be bruised tomorrow, which was only fair seeing as Tim would likely have a light case of beard burn.

It was impossible to forget where his hand was, and what exactly Tim wanted him to do with. Raylan prided himself on his ability to multitask, which is why he kept kissing Tim like his life depended on it while he tentatively pressed the pad of his index finger against the furl of Tim’s hole. He swallowed Tim’s gasp with his mouth, the intensity of his own arousal almost overwhelming him.

Time hung suspended for a moment, seconds stretching on for what felt like forever. Then Tim shifted down against the pressure, as light as it was, and Raylan had to pull away from his mouth to press his overly warm forehead to Tim’s shoulder, sucking in greedy breaths that did jack shit to slow down his heart where it was thundering in his chest. He could feel his pulse in his fucking _dick_ and he’d never been so desperate to fuck somebody in his entire goddamn life.

What would Arlo have to say about him now? Raylan found that he’d never cared about the old fuck’s opinion less, not when he had Tim shivering against him.

Tim’s hand moved from the back of his neck to his hair, fingers carding through the strands and then tugging once, just enough that Raylan’s scalp tingled. “Too much? We can stop -” and the best course of action in response to such a fucking stupid question seemed to be biting Tim’s neck, Raylan thought, and that opinion didn’t lessen any when Tim’s grip on his hair tightened near to painful. “Jesus, what are you, a fucking _vampire_?”

Okay, that was fair. Raylan _did_ know how to use words but if he was being honest, Tim made him feel a little out of control of himself in a way that wasn’t entirely bad, just different. He was definitely acting on instinct more than maybe did usually.

It was easy enough to soothe the bite with an open mouthed kiss, followed by another one lower down, and another one after that. Raylan found himself pressing kisses to every bit of skin he could reach, desire coursing through him hot and heavy. Tim’s grip on his hair loosened and Raylan didn’t think he was imagining Tim’s soft sigh, or the way he moved into the touch of his mouth. Raylan pressed a rueful grin into Tim’s skin. “If by ‘too much’ you mean ‘are you about to come’, then yes.”

“Jesus, you can’t just _say_ that,” and Tim rolled them quicker than Raylan could even think of stopping him; the motion confirmed to Raylan that he definitely wasn’t drunk anymore while also serving as a reminder that he was macking on a man who probably knew at least fifty ways to kill him with a pencil. Did that make Tim _more_ or _less_ attractive? Who was Raylan kidding: it was _more._

Tim bit at _Raylan’s_ lip for once and licked inside his mouth when the sharp sting made him grunt, blanketing Raylan’s body with his own. Raylan liked being on top and the control that came with it, but he couldn’t deny that this felt just as good: Tim’s muscled torso pressed against his own, their dicks rubbing together even though Tim was holding himself slightly away. Raylan broke the kiss to tip his head back against the pillow on a groan, dropping his hands to Tim’s hips in an attempt to encourage him to grind down.

Only Tim sat up instead and Raylan looked up at him, thumbs rubbing over Tim’s hip bones. Tim’s dick caught Raylan’s eye, flushed and hard, precome slicking the tip. When Tim wrapped a hand around himself and started languidly jerking himself off, muscles in his forearm rippling, Raylan’s own dick twitched. Tim looked down at it and smirked, raising an eyebrow. He was so cocky and Raylan shouldn’t be surprised how much it was doing it for him. “If we’re gonna do something stupid, it’s gotta be stupider than rutting like teenagers. Don’t you think?”

The man had a point. Raylan could also recognize that an hour spent listening to Tim talk about sex - more than he usually talked about it in their everyday lives, anyhow - was giving him something of a voice kink. How had he never paid attention to just how deep Tim’s voice was before now? He had plenty of time to contemplate that as Tim leant forward and to the side. The sound of a drawer opening had Raylan grinning up at the ceiling. 

Tim kept on talking, dry as anything. Like he was discussing the weather and not speaking filth directly against Raylan’s ear. “You’re gonna finger me open for your stupid, big dick, and then I’m gonna show you exactly what I was thinkin’ about when I was riding that bull. Sound good?”

Raylan was getting real sick of his ears ringing like Boyd had just let off emulex right next to him. Tim righted himself, shaking the half-empty bottle of lube he was holding, and raised an expectant eyebrow like he thought Raylan had the brain capacity to form words after hearing Tim tell him to finger him open. Then Raylan noticed what was missing, and the ringing in his ears came back tenfold. “Condoms?”

The heat racing through him was almost too much to bear and it only got worse when Tim’s cheek darkened as he dropped Raylan’s gaze. Tim’s shrug was probably meant to look nonchalant but Raylan could see the tension in his spine; without really thinking about it he moved his hands to Tim’s waist and squeezed. It felt like the right thing to do when Tim’s eyes met his again.

“I don’t have any, but I’m clean. Besides, it’s not like you can knock me up, right? But if it’s a deal breaker -” It was maybe a Top Ten in his list of lifetime embarrassing moments that the strangled groan he let out was loud enough that Tim cut himself off. But Raylan was only so strong, and the idea of fucking Tim bare was hot enough to burn. For a moment Tim just gaped at him, then an incredulous smirk took over his face. “Fucking hell, Raylan.”

At least he doesn’t sound grossed out by Raylan’s heretofore undiscovered kink, and he definitely didn’t _feel_ grossed out when he leaned down to claim Raylan’s mouth in a biting kiss that had them both breathing heavy by the time he pulled away. Raylan didn’t think he’d seen blue in Tim’s eyes since they’d left the living room and when Tim kissed him again he let his hands wander, dragging them down from Tim’s waist to his ass. He squeezed the handfuls he found there and Tim groaned into his mouth, hips shifting. Raylan turned to pant against his cheek. “If you’re sure -”

“Yes, I’m sure, come on,” 

The _snick_ of the lube bottle being opened was as loud as a gunshot and when Tim shoved it into his hand Raylan took it, his fingers more than a little numb. To watch Tim sit back and wrap a hand around the base of his dick, squeezing like he was on the verge of coming already, was almost too much for Raylan to bear. How was he supposed to look at Tim the same, after this? Would he even want to?

They were both questions that needed answering, but Raylan wasn’t going to ruin the mood by giving voice to them now. Not when he was pouring lube over his fingers and dancing them down Tim’s lower back and between the cheeks of his ass, which felt just as round and muscled as it had looked in those fucking tight jeans Tim had been wearing at the bar. It was a wonder that Rachel hadn’t seen the way Raylan hadn’t been able to look anywhere else when Tim had been walking to the mechanical bull, but then again, maybe she _had_ seen. There was a reason why he’d struggled to give Tim a straight answer when he’d asked where Rachel had gone. 

“Raylan?” Tim’s voice, impatient and thready with need, brought Raylan back to the here and now. He raised an eyebrow in askance and rubbed the pad of one finger over Tim’s hole once, twice. Feeling for any give. Tim stuttered out a breath and shifted back, like he was chasing the feeling already, and there was a very real chance that Raylan was going to bite through his own lip before the night was through. Tim’s gaze was severe. “If you tease me right now, I _will_ shoot you.”

That sounded like a promise. That didn’t explain why it made Raylan’s heart beat faster or his dick throb, precome sliding off the head to pool on his stomach. And he might be at least ten years older than Tim but he was young enough to pull himself upright without unseating Tim; Tim, ever adaptable, shifted further back on Raylan’s thighs just in time. It brought their dicks back together and Raylan gasped against Tim’s collarbone. “Now, would I do that to you?”

Tim’s hand found its way back into Raylan’s hair and he tugged, sharp and sudden. His voice was practically a growl, mouth against Raylan’s temple. “ _Yes._ ” 

Raylan pressed his smirk into Tim’s skin and pushed harder against the furl of Tim’s hole until it let him inside, lube easing the way until he was inside of Tim to the second knuckle. While his heart pounded in his chest - uncertainty, lust, excitement - Raylan let them both get used to the feeling. Should he have gone slower? Raylan figured that Tim trusted him enough to let him know if he was doing something wrong, so he guessed he was okay.

Eventually, Tim shuddered out a breath. Tilted his head harder against Raylan’s, hand clenching tighter in his hair. Raylan waited him out, mostly just breathing against Tim’s skin but occasionally pressing kisses into it; he wasn’t sure if he was soothing Tim or himself. And just when he was about to say something, to ask Tim if he’d changed his mind, if they should stop, Tim rocked down against his finger. Why was _Raylan_ seeing stars? He’d been holding himself still, as tense as a string, but now he felt himself relaxing by degrees. He kissed higher up on Tim’s neck. “Good?”

Tim _hmmd_ and rocked down against his finger harder, more of a roll of his hips. It felt like they were touching absolutely everywhere, skin and against skin, and Raylan loved it. Raylan kissed Tim’s jaw; he felt his speak before he heard it. “Fuckin’ weird.”

“‘Weird’ as in you wanna stop?”

With his grip on Raylan’s hair, Tim tugged his head back far enough that his mouth could find Raylan’s and he kissed him, slow and deep and exploratory. It was instinct, in the end, to pump his finger in and out of Tim, and Raylan caught Tim’s moan in his mouth. Tim broke the kiss and swore, thighs clenching around Raylan’s hips. “No, I don’t want to stop. I want _more._ ”

Tim didn’t have to tell him twice. 

Raylan withdrew, muffling Tim’s noise of protest with a strategic kiss as he fumbled blindly with the bottle of lube to get his fingers coated again. Then he put his mind to it in earnest: one finger, once Tim was shifting back against every thrust Raylan gave him, graduated to two. Spreading them as best he could made Tim shiver, and curling them to press against the little bundle of nerves Raylan knew he would find almost sent Tim’s head careening into his.

The expression on Tim’s face was one of shocked arousal; he ground down hard against the fingers Raylan had inside of him. “ _Fuck,_ do that again,” and Raylan did. He felt helpless not to listen to every word, every moan, that came out of Tim’s mouth right now. Every stroke against his prostate made Tim quiver against him, his dick practically drooling precome onto Raylan’s stomach. When Raylan rubbed particularly hard Tim moaned and reached down to grasp the base of his dick, panting against Raylan’s cheek.

Raylan backed off, pumping his fingers in and out of Tim again, until Tim let go of his dick. “Good?”

Tim pressed his mouth against Raylan’s ear. “ _More._ ”

As much fun as it was to watch Tim light up like a Christmas tree every time he pressed his fingers against his prostate, by this point they had a different goal in mind, one they were both more than eager to get to. Raylan stretched Tim as gently as he could while still trying to do it quickly enough that he’d get to fuck Tim before they both came all over themselves, because that’s what was going to happen if Tim kept letting out noises that were practically whimpers when Raylan hit him just right.

That being said, Raylan sort of wanted to find out if it was playing it safe or just plain playing with Tim to try for three fingers; his dick _was_ big, after all. Only when he withdrew the two fingers he had inside of Tim and nudged a third at his entrance, Tim pulled even harder on his hair. Raylan’s resultant grunt was half pain, half pleasure, and his dick jerked against his stomach. _Traitor_. He fixed Tim with a glare. “You keep callin’ me a vampire, but how am I gonna explain the bald patch you’re givin’ me?”

Tim laughed and pressed himself tighter against Raylan. “Love it when you go all _Harlan County_ on me.” Raylan could feel it against his fingertips when Tim’s hole clenched around nothing and his dick ached with the need to be inside of him, but he would be lying if he said that the honesty in Tim’s words hadn’t thrown him for a loop just now. That they weren’t sending a mix of feelings swirling through Raylan, none of them _bad._

Maybe Tim wasn’t feeling the same, though, because it was hard not to notice when he suddenly became tense against Raylan. Like he knew that his words had nudged at the barriers of whatever it was that they were doing in a way that neither of them had expected. Raylan held his breath and wondered if Tim would take it back, or if he’d make a joke. But if he knew one thing for sure it was that he didn’t want Tim to take it back, and he didn’t want to give him the opportunity to play it off as a joke. That didn’t mean that Raylan was going to be _serious_ about it. “Aw, darlin’, I haven’t even shown you the best of what Harlan has to offer yet.”

It took a second - an _excruciating_ second - but Tim’s muscles unclenched and he laughed, only sounding slightly strained. Tim’s hands landed on his chest and pushed him back until he landed against the pillows with an _oof_. It gave him the opportunity to look at Tim, to scan his face for any regret or uncertainty, and he took it as he put his arms behind his head, the picture of nonchalance. Tim’s cheeks were dark, sure, but he was still hard and he didn’t look like he was going to run in the other direction any time soon. Crisis averted.

Raylan should have anticipated that Tim would be quick to land on his feet, though.

“Let me guess… _this_ -” Tim wrapped his hand around Raylan’s dick and squeezed, raising an eyebrow when Raylan swore and thrust upwards, “- is the best Harlan has to offer?”

It was like the past two minutes hadn’t happened, Tim sounded so calm and unaffected. The weird thing was, it was doing it for Raylan. He bit his lip when Tim dragged his hand upwards to rub his thumb against the bundle of nerves beneath the head of his dick; Tim was staring right at Raylan’s face, his gaze dark and assessing. Raylan couldn’t help but feel like he was being checked for weaknesses. “I guess you’re gonna have to find out, aren’t you?”

The challenge in his voice was enough to turn Tim’s gaze flinty, determined. Tim turned to look for the lube in the sheets and when his eyes caught on Raylan’s discarded hat instead he grinned and grabbed it, arranging it on top of his disheveled hair. “Almost forgot.” 

Raylan could feel the lube beneath him and he shifted far enough to the side to retrieve it, passing it to Tim with a smirk. “Is this what you were thinkin’ about, riding that bull? Ridin’ me instead?”

It would have been a bold-faced lie to say that the possibility didn’t send a bolt of white-hot arousal through Raylan because it implied that even before they found themselves here, naked and sweaty and horny as hell, Tim had thought about this. That he’d thought about Raylan, and that he’d thought about fucking him. To say he was flattered didn’t quite cover it: Raylan knew he wouldn’t be capable of thinking of anything else for a while.

Tim’s cheeks darkened further and he shrugged as he popped the cap of the lube with his thumb. Raylan should have been expecting it when Tim bypassed his hand entirely and drizzled it directly over Raylan’s dick; it was barely warm and he gasped, then he almost bit through his tongue when Tim slicked him up properly with a tight grip. “You know what they say: save a horse, ride a cowboy.” it surprised Raylan enough that he laughed and Tim grinned wide enough to flash his teeth, obviously pleased with his joke. Then he tightened his grip on Raylan’s dick to jerk him off agonizingly slow. “And you can’t tell me that you don’t know that you look like a walkin’ invitation to sin, Raylan.” 

It must have been a coincidence, then, that watching Tim raise himself up on his knees so that he could move forward enough to position Raylan’s dick at his entrance felt a little like a religious experience of its own. Raylan didn’t bother trying to contain his groan as he dropped his hands to clench at Tim’s thighs, looking up at him through slitted eyes because the sight of him was almost too much: naked save for Raylan’s hat, dick jutting out flushed and hard.

Considering Raylan was struck too deaf and dumb to do anything to help things along, Tim had to press down to encourage Raylan’s dick inside. It was taking long enough that Raylan was starting to worry that he _should_ have insisted on three fingers when the head of his dick finally breached Tim to be enveloped by molten warmth.

“Fuck -”

“Oh, _god_ -”

Raylan didn’t even know who’d said what, too overwhelmed by sensation. He was gripping Tim’s thighs so tightly that he’d probably have bruises in the shape of Raylan’s fingers come morning and he couldn’t have looked away from Tim’s face if someone paid him: if Raylan had thought that Tim looked incredible before it was nothing compared to how he looked now with his eyes screwed shut and his mouth parted on a gasp, back arched as he rolled his hips down against Raylan’s dick until he slid down another inch and a half. Tim was so tight and hot inside that Raylan felt like he was going insane with it, his dick already aching with the need to come. 

Then he remembered that he was fucking Tim bare, that he’d be coming inside of him if not all over his thighs, and he had to think about literally anything else or this was going to be over embarrassingly fast.

The point was, Raylan was scared to move. He knew from past experience that his dick was more than a little intimidating and not the easiest to take on the first try, but the furrow between Tim’s eyebrows told him that Tim was determined to do it. Raylan knew that he would only fuck it up, for lack of a better phrase, by moving too soon. It didn’t leave him with many options besides the one he knew was tried and true: running his mouth.

“Fuck, Tim, the way you look right now… hottest thing I’ve ever fuckin’ seen -” and he had to cut himself off when Tim moaned and dropped down even further, close to taking him halfway. Tim’s erection had wilted a little and Raylan wasn’t offended seeing as fucking himself down on Raylan’s dick, however slowly, had to hurt a little. Raylan loosened his grip on Tim’s thighs to run his hands over them, soothing. “You’re doin’ so good,” another inch down forced a gasp out of them both, “You’re taking it so well, Tim.”

Tim really hadn’t been lying about liking it when Raylan talked like that because his eyes fluttered shut, his dick twitching, as he clenched like a vice around Raylan’s dick; he could _hear colors._

That feeling paled in comparison to the one that came with Tim rising up a little before he rocked his hips back down, hands landing on Raylan’s chest as an anchor point. It changed the angle enough that Tim whined and Raylan couldn’t help it: he thrust upwards, the slightest shift of movement, before he caught himself. It was still enough that Tim was closer to being fully seated on his dick than he wasn’t and Tim’s hands spasmed on his chest, his mouth dropping open, and Raylan was _mortified._ “Shit, sorry -”

Only Tim wasn’t flinching away from him or making a noise anything close to pained; the sound that came out of his mouth sounded more like a contented moan. “ _Fuck,_ again, do that again.”

Raylan froze. Tightened his hands on Tim’s legs again, feeling the muscle there when he rubbed his thumbs on the achingly soft skin of his inner thighs. Tim spread his legs a little, his hole tightening around Raylan’s dick as he shuddered out an uneven breath before he opened his eyes and met Raylan’s gaze. Raylan’s voice was so low it was almost unrecognizable to his own ears when he asked, “Yeah?”

Tim licked his bottom lip and nodded. It was only when Tim wrapped a hand around his own dick and dragged it upwards that Raylan noticed that he was fully hard again, like feeling Raylan fucking up into him had gotten him the rest of the way there. Then Tim rocked down against him, practically grinding against his dick, mouth parted and so fucking pink. “Please, Raylan.”

Oh, that was dirty pool. Tim had to know that. His hooded eyes when Raylan’s gaze shot from where Tim was still fisting himself to his face told Raylan that he knew exactly what the words did to him, that he was deliberately trying to spur him on again. Raylan was happy to deliver. With a little maneuvering he managed to get his knees bent behind Tim’s back and his feet planted on the bed, all the better to rock his hips upwards. 

As far as fucking someone went the motion was negligible but Tim still gasped, eyes fluttering shut as Raylan’s dick moved properly within him for the first time. It wasn’t enough for him, though, because Tim shifted up onto his knees a little more, putting more pressure on his hands on Raylan’s chest. It meant that with his next thrust Raylan pulled out almost all of the way, head of his dick catching on Tim’s hole before he thrust forward again, and Tim fucking _whined._

“ _God,_ yes, like that,” and there was a very good chance that Raylan wasn’t going to survive this if Tim kept talking like that, voice deep and needy and all for him.

Tim’s chest glistened with a fine sheen of sweat, his tattoo appearing even darker, and Raylan couldn’t stop staring at him, full of Raylan’s dick and wearing his fucking hat. He couldn’t stop staring at the pink of Tim’s nipples either, or the bobbing of his dick as he met Raylan thrust for thrust, and especially the point at which they were joined, where the thickness of his dick was disappearing into the clutch of Tim’s hole. Raylan was sober but he _felt_ drunk, focused on the drive of his hips and the noises he was starting to punch out of Tim, breathy grunts and beautiful moans that he’d be hearing for a long time once they were through. 

But Tim’s noises were nothing compared to the words that sprang forth when he leant back slightly, Raylan’s dick hammering his prostate dead on on his next thrust upwards. 

“ _Christ,_ there, harder, you can go harder,” the near desperation in his voice more than enough to drive Raylan to prove that he hadn’t been lying when he’d said that he was the best that Harlan County had to offer. His pride was on the line here, which is why he made sure to angle his hips to hit Tim’s prostate on almost every thrust until Tim could barely keep his eyes open, his dick leaking so profusely that there was a web of precome connecting him to Raylan’s stomach. 

It was obvious that Tim was close when he took a hand off of Raylan’s chest to start jerking himself off, his grip fast and tight straight away. Raylan’s balls ached with the need to come but he was going to make sure that Tim got his first if it was his last act on earth. Which is probably why he lost control of his mouth. “God, the way you fuckin’ _feel,_ you’ve got no idea.”

“Oh yeah?” Tim’s voice was breathy but somehow even lower than it was normally, with the exact same level of amused sarcasm lacing through it as he had when talking about anything. It was driving Raylan fucking nuts. His thrusts were losing their finesse and he’d be more worried about that if he couldn’t hear the frantic way Tim was stripping his dick, or feel the way that Tim’s hole was fluttering around his dick as he fucked back against it. 

Since Raylan had asked to hear Tim he hadn’t tried to stifle himself once; with every pass of Raylan’s dick against his prostate Tim would whine, or moan, and Raylan had never been so desperate to come in his life. “So fucking’ tight -” and he had to bite his tongue against the pet name that wanted to slip out, groaning instead. 

Would Tim even be able to walk tomorrow? With the way he’d had to spread his legs to accommodate the width of the mechanical bull and the way Raylan was fucking up into him hard and fast, there was no way that Tim wouldn’t be feeling the burn. And now that he’d thought about how Tim had looked at the bar he couldn’t _stop_ thinking about it. To open his eyes and see Tim staring down at him, eyes dark pools… Raylan was human. 

When he let go of Tim’s hip - the place where he had been grabbing was pale before blood rushed back into it - and knocked Tim’s hand off of his dick, Tim let him. And when Raylan figured out how to time his thrusts and jerking Tim off at the same time, Tim closed his eyes and moaned, throwing his head back like he was giving himself over to the sensations. He reached up to steady Raylan’s goddamn hat on his head, which was the final straw to what little remained of Raylan’s sanity.

“Watchin’ you at the bar, in those _jeans_ ,” and Tim laughed, his dick so slick with precome that jerking him off was almost louder than the sound of their bodies meeting, the perfect slap of skin and skin that was only serving to send Raylan higher and higher. “And watchin’ you ride that bull while you wore my fucking hat, like you are now?” Tim’s laugh turned into a moan as Raylan fucked up into him harder, the head of his dick near to purple whenever it showed through the circle of Raylan’s fist. “God, I was hard before you got in the goddam car.”

A lot of things happened at once, then.

If Raylan had thought that Tim was tight around him before it was nothing compared to how tight he was immediately after the words left Raylan’s mouth, hole clenching so much that it took all Raylan had to keep thrusting. Then hot warmth spilled across Raylan’s hand, his stomach, his _chest_ as Tim shouted and came, his dick kicking hard as Raylan kept jacking him, thumb rubbing beneath the head of Tim’s dick to wring him dry. 

It must have been too much, combined with the way he couldn’t stop thrusting, because Tim shoved weakly at his hand until Raylan let go. And then Tim took Raylan’s hat off and threw it onto the floor before he fell forward with his elbows either side of Raylan’s head, the angle somehow feeling even better, feeling even deeper. Would Tim want him to pull out before he came? He should probably ask, only Tim was tilting his head to kiss him, his mouth clumsy and warm as his tongue sought out Raylan’s.

Tim pulled back and bit at Raylan’s bottom lip; their faces were so close together that he was out of focus. That didn’t stop Raylan from hearing the next words out of Tim’s mouth. “Come on, Raylan, I wanna feel it,” and Tim kissed him again, kissed him breathless. Pulled away barely an inch, their lips brushing. “Please?”

Raylan couldn’t have stopped himself from coming at hearing Tim ask him to, voice so low and sweet, even if it meant Boyd Crowder in prison for life.

He fucked into Tim a handful of times hard enough to rock him forward, their heads almost knocking together as Tim whined, before he buried himself deep. Raylan’s eyes so badly wanted to close against the waves of pleasure crashing into him but he wanted to see Tim’s reaction even more; at the first pulse of his dick Tim tensed up before he shivered, his eyes half lidded like keeping them open was too much work. “ _Oh._ ”

Raylan laughed even as he kept on fucking coming, his dick almost aching with it as he kept minutely rocking into Tim. “You asked for it.”

Tim collapsed against him and Raylan grunted at the sudden weight before he decided to go with it, hands shifting from Tim’s sides to rub at his back. Tim made a noise against the skin of his neck that he took to be agreement that he _had_ asked for it and Raylan smirked up at the ceiling, feeling really fucking content with life. If Tim wasn’t going to immediately climb off of him Raylan wasn’t going to volunteer to pull out, not when aftershocks of feeling were shooting through his entire body, his dick twitching inside of Tim. 

He’d had a lot of sex in his life, and usually with the same woman for a stretch of time. That meant he’d had an opportunity to learn what they liked, what really got them going, while they did the same with him. Sex had _never_ been this good the first time, not with any of them. Not even Winona. 

Thinking too much about that and what it might mean got pushed to the side when Tim mumbled something against Raylan’s neck, his mouth tickling. Raylan hadn’t stopped rubbing at Tim’s back, enjoying the feeling of strong muscles beneath his hands. He also hadn’t stopped smiling. “What was that?”

Tim sat up and scrubbed a hand down his face. Raylan’s eyes fell to his dick, soft between his thighs, and he swallowed around the stir of arousal that rippled through him. When Tim didn’t say anything right away, Raylan raised an eyebrow at him. “I said, I think I might be gay.”

It was so out of left field that Raylan snorted out a genuine laugh before he shifted to sit upright, face to face with Tim. That worked out well for Tim, apparently, because he gripped Raylan’s shoulders and lifted himself up enough that Raylan’s dick slipped free. When Tim made a face Raylan imagined that he was feeling Raylan’s come beginning to coat his thighs, a thought that made his hands itch with the urge to _touch._ But maybe that should be the end of this thing between them instead. They’d clean up and go their separate ways, continuing on like normal at the office tomorrow. That would be the smart thing to do.

Raylan hadn’t been in the mood to be smart when deciding to sleep with Tim in the first place, and he wasn’t in the mood to start now. Of course, Tim might feel differently. Only when Raylan cautiously tilted his face forward Tim met him halfway, mouth moving against Raylan’s as he slid a hand back up and into his hair. Raylan was beginning to think that hearing him go all Harlan County wasn’t the only thing about him that did it for Tim but he wasn’t in a position to complain when it made his scalp tingle pleasantly while Tim’s mouth slid sweetly over his, no urgency behind the kisses anymore. 

So why did they still feel so all-consuming?

More importantly, why couldn’t Raylan stop touching Tim? One hand drifted to cup the side of Tim’s neck, a mirror of their position at the cabin that morning, while the other was drifting lower and lower on Tim’s back. Raylan should stop, he knew that, only Tim was still kissing him and he felt so fucking good against his chest, all hard muscle and soft skin. 

Raylan probably deserved it when Tim almost bit through his lip at the first graze of his fingers across Tim’s hole, warm and tacky from a combination of lube and Raylan’s come. He pulled his fingers away and smirked against Tim’s cheek, hot arousal and pride swirling through him. Possessiveness too, though he was happy to ignore that particular emotion. “Sorry.”

“You’re an asshole.” Tim threw himself sideways, flopping onto his back on the bed to stare up at the ceiling, and Raylan decided to be the bigger man by not making a crude joke out of that. Besides, by Raylan’s estimations Tim looked like he’d been ridden hard and put away wet and that proud feeling grew within him, weighing him down almost as much as the tiredness that was seeping into his limbs now that he’d come harder than he maybe ever had.

Still, he was a gentleman. He stood up and stretched, arms high over his head and his back arched, Tim’s eyes on him as warm as his body had been. There was no point trying to hide the fondness he could feel on his face when he straightened and looked at Tim, so he didn’t try. “Bathroom?”

Tim pointed to a door he hadn’t noticed on the adjacent wall and Raylan grinned before he went to wash up, squirting toothpaste onto his finger to give his teeth a onceover before he waited for the water to warm up enough to run a washcloth beneath it. Tim’s room, when he came back out, wasn’t as sparse as he’d thought when he’d first stumbled into it in a blind haze of lust: there were books on the nightstand closest to the window, as well as a small table and chair in a corner. It looked lived in, nice.

He’d been expecting to find Tim still crashed out on the bed but he was standing beside it instead, tugging a fresh bed sheet into submission with the sheets they’d definitely ruined nowhere to be seen. Raylan was impressed considering he’d been done two minutes tops, but he also guessed that what you learned in the military didn’t ever really leave you. Tim looked over his shoulder at him and rolled his eyes when he spotted the washcloth, reaching out a hand for it. 

A weirdly large part of Raylan wanted to say no, that he’d do it, but he pushed it down in favour of giving the washcloth to Tim and watching as he wiped it briskly over his stomach and between his thighs. 

It left Raylan at a crossroads with a decision to be made. Or, that wasn’t right: it was time for him to leave. He walked past Tim and started to hunt for his clothes, which weren’t on the floor where he’d left them. It took Raylan a moment but he spotted his hat first, on top of a dresser against the wall, the rest of his clothes neatly folded beside it; for some reason it made him grin as he walked up to them. He was halfway through pulling his briefs up when Tim spoke and he glanced over his shoulder, heart pounding in his chest for reasons that had nothing to do with being startled.

“You could stay.”

Raylan only realized how much he’d been wanting to hear Tim say that when he actually heard the words and he straightened, pulling up his briefs properly. He thought that maybe Tim would change his mind and take it back - again, that would be the _smart_ thing to do - but Tim’s expression was blank. He was also still naked, which was more distracting than it should have been, considering. “Yeah?”

Tim shrugged, walking casually to stand beside Raylan. He opened the top drawer of the dresser and pulled out a pair of briefs, black instead of the blue he’d been wearing earlier, bending to put them on like Raylan wasn’t staring at him. _Ogling_ , more like, which made Tim roll his eyes when he straightened. “As long as you’re okay with me screaming myself awake.”

It made Raylan laugh, which really said a lot about the sort of lives they led and also their dynamic as friends. _Friends_ , and now whatever else they were. That was exactly why this was an incredibly bad idea. Fucking Tim was one thing, but staying over? 

A voice that sounded suspiciously like Art’s was telling him to go home, sleep it off, and to have a rational conversation about what had happened between them tomorrow when they were both fully clothed. But if Raylan had gotten good at one thing over the years, it was telling Art to fuck off. He grinned like he hadn’t just been experiencing a mild internal struggle. “I’m sure I can manage. You sleep on the left or right?”

Tim didn’t answer straight away. He just kept on looking at Raylan, those dark blue eyes of his flicking across Raylan’s face, almost searching. Considering all that had happened tonight Raylan let him, feeling uncharacteristically patient. Eventually Tim looked away from him to walk in the direction of the bathroom; Raylan admired his legs as he went. “Right, usually.”

That worked out well, considering Raylan tended to keep to the left if he wasn’t starfished in the middle of the bed, too full of bourbon to care one way or another. The sound of water running in the bathroom met his ears as he pulled back the fresh sheets and climbed between them, sighing at the cool feel of them against his overheated skin.

And he should have known it would happen as soon as he was horizontal, but Raylan was asleep before Tim even came back into the room.


	4. four.

**tim -**

Considering the time that they had fallen asleep, Tim was actually impressed that his body permitted him four hours of uninterrupted rest before it jerked him awake, echoing screams and smears of red lingering in his periphery as he blinked up at the ceiling with his heart pounding behind his ribs.

The early hour, his room barely beginning to lighten around them, gave Tim the perfect opportunity to continue the mild panic attack he’d been enjoying in the bathroom earlier, when he’d been all too aware of the ache in his ass and the man who’d caused it lying in his bed only a handful of feet away. He shifted on the bed now and felt that same twinge, bone deep and burning, that told him that last night hadn’t been a cruelly elaborate dream.

Turning his head three inches to the side confirmed that too, Raylan laying on his back beside him. Sleep smoothed out his features and his mouth was parted to let out smooth exhalations of air, heat radiating off of him like he was a space heater in the shape of a man. A surprisingly in shape man, too; the sheets had shifted down the bed as they slept and Tim couldn’t help but stare at Raylan’s torso.

It was fair to say that his panic had nothing to do with a crisis of sexuality He hadn’t been lying to Raylan when he’d told him that he thought he might be gay, because how thoroughly he’d enjoyed having a dick up his ass had confirmed that pretty spectacularly. No, his panic was rooted in the fact that he had no idea how he was supposed to just act _normal_ after this. How he was supposed to go to work, sit at his desk directly next to Raylan’s, and pretend like none of this had ever happened.

As he maneuvered himself into an upright position and swung his feet onto the floor, Tim rationalized that he’d managed just fine before: his attraction to Raylan wasn’t new. Getting railed by the guy had maybe made it more _intense,_ but Tim was a level headed guy. He knew how to compartmentalize, and doing that would be ten times easier as soon as Raylan woke up and told him that they could never do this again. If Raylan talked in his sleep or snored loud enough to rattle the walls, Tim might be coping a bit better.

As it was, Tim needed coffee. If only so he could occupy his hands with it, instead of giving in to the urge to touch Raylan again, which is what would inevitably happen if he didn’t move away from him. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to get his hands on Raylan’s dick again - even though Tim really, _really_ did - but just that he wanted to be touching his skin; to ground himself in the moment. For Raylan to let him. 

Tim pressed his fingers against his closed eyes and groaned, frustrated with himself for being such a fucking _girl_ about this. Raylan was just a man, and this didn’t change anything. Then Tim stood, took a single step, and bit his lip against the noise that wanted to escape his mouth. 

It wasn’t that his ass hurt. It was just that moving even a little made Tim more aware of it - of his fucking _hole_ \- than he’d ever been in his entire life, in a way that wasn’t even in the realm of being bad. He had no idea how he was going to sit at his desk all day without spacing out; walking down the hallway and into the kitchen to poke the coffee machine into life was bad enough, every step reminding him of last night.

Raylan’s hands on him, and his mouth. The way he’d looked wearing nothing but his hat as Tim sucked him off, and then how blissed out Raylan had looked as Tim rode him for everything he was worth. Just thinking about it was enough to have him half hard, his dick twitching in his briefs, and he pressed the heel of his palm against it and clenched his eyes shut against the wave of arousal that washed over him. 

Then he shook his head at himself. They’d fucked, it had been incredible, but it wasn’t going to happen again. The sooner Tim got on board with that the better.

Raylan hadn’t moved an inch when Tim walked - limped - back into his room, long limbs sprawled out against Tim’s sheets and face soft with sleep. He had more stubble on his face than Tim had ever seen him with and it made him aware of the way his own face was slightly tingly, a fine layer of beard burn over his jaw and neck. Warmth rolled through him and he tore his eyes away from Raylan to grab his phone before he sat down at the table in the corner, perched on the edge of the seat.

There was still another two hours before they had to be at work and ditching Raylan was out of the question seeing as it was _his house_ , so he amused himself texting Mark, the only person who he knew stateside who slept as badly, if not worse, than he did. 

It took another hour and fifteen minutes, as well as another cup of coffee, before Raylan even began to stir. The first shift of movement drew Tim’s eyes and he felt himself tensing up, adrenaline starting to flow through him as he sunk into fight or flight mode. There was no telling how Raylan might react when he opened his eyes and remembered that he’d spent a good portion of the night with his dick in another man’s ass; just because Tim was hoping that he’d be okay with it didn’t mean that he would be.

Which is to say that Tim was more than a little surprised when Raylan opened his eyes and immediately turned his head to look at the side of the bed that Tim had been sleeping on, like he was checking if Tim was there. At finding the sheets beside him empty Raylan turned his head again, his flicking around the room before they landed heavily on Tim. The furrow between his brows disappeared as his gaze warmed.

“Hey.”

Raylan’s voice was deep, he was smiling, and Tim was so fucking confused. Not so confused that he was going to let it show on his face, though. “Mornin’.”

For whatever reason that made Raylan grin before he stretched languid and long like a big cat, or like a man who’d had one hell of an orgasm only a handful of hours ago. Raylan certainly didn’t _look_ like a man who was about to have a homophobic freak out and Tim felt his anxiety begin to recede. He almost wanted it to linger, unwilling to trust that this might actually go well.

Except Raylan finished his stretch, complete with a contented groan that definitely shouldn’t be making anything stir south of Tim’s belly button, to look at him with eyes that felt as heavy as a weight. “C’mere.” The fact that it didn’t sound like Raylan was _asking_ him shouldn’t be turning Tim on either, but last night had been full of uncomfortable revelations. It was a little early in the day to be taking orders, though, and when Tim just raised an eyebrow at him Raylan rolled his eyes; it looked playful. “Tim.”

Well, okay. 

Tim dropped his phone onto the table and stood to walk the handful of steps over to the bed, all too aware that Raylan was watching him about as close as a hawk. Was Raylan about to let him down easy, like he was some girl who needed to be treated gently? Tim stopped an arms length away and waited for it to happen so he could swear at Raylan already, except Raylan was smirking and reaching out to curl a hand around the back of Tim’s leg, high enough that his thumb skimmed the bottom of Tim’s briefs. His gasp was involuntary and he wished he could swallow it down as soon as they both heard it, but it only made Raylan smirk wider.

Raylan rubbed his thumb against Tim’s skin again. “Sore?”

God, he was such a fucking _man._ Tim rolled his eyes. “Raylan, you don’t need me to tell you how big your dick is -”

Raylan’s grip on his thigh tightened at the same time as his eyes darkened; if Tim couldn’t see the amused tilt to Raylan’s smile as he let his mouth snap closed, he would have thought he was pissed off. Angry or not, Raylan’s voice was still low. “Not what I asked.”

It was impossible to stop the molten warmth that wanted to suffuse every part of Tim’s body at the way Raylan was acting right now, just like there was no way to hide that this conversation was making the semi he’d been rocking ever since he first started walking around fill out even more. Raylan was polite enough not to mention it, which felt ironic when Tim could also feel Raylan’s thumb inching beneath the fabric of his briefs to touch the crease between Tim’s thigh and ass. 

Tim could try to keep up the snarky act, but he wasn’t sure that he had the higher brain function for it, not with all of Raylan’s attention focused on him like it was. He shrugged and decided that if Raylan wanted some honesty, he could have it. “A little. S’good, though.”

It was disappointing, when Raylan took his hand off of Tim so that he could cover his face and groan. “You can’t just say things like that, _fuck._ ”

Tim laughed, he couldn’t help it. He had no idea what was going on right now, with Raylan smiling and touching him and not throwing punches or accusations. But Tim had always been adaptable, quick on his feet, so why should now be any different? “Well, you started it.” 

Raylan’s own laugh was muffled by his hands before he dragged them down his face. “I did, didn’t I.” He paused to look away from Tim, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. Tim almost tensed up all over again, because a thoughtful Raylan was never a good - “What if I wanna finish it?”

Yeah, a thoughtful Raylan was never a good Raylan. Tim knew his eyes were wide with disbelief, but why shouldn’t they be? Clearly Raylan had been dropped on his head one too many times as a kid. Tim was happy to play dumb for a moment if only so he could buy himself more time to think through what he thought Raylan was _actually_ saying. “You finished it already. Pretty spectacularly, I might add.”

Apparently, Raylan wasn’t in the mood to play games. The look he gave Tim was full of heat and promise, his grin sly. “Come on. We can be professional, can’t we? Winona and I have been sleepin’ together and working in the same building with no issues for how long now?”

It wasn’t surprising to learn that Raylan’s idea of ‘no issues’ differed greatly to Tim’s, just like it wasn’t surprising what fear could do to a boner. Tim grimaced. “Poppin’ my ass cherry wasn’t your way of cheating on Winona, was it? Because I know that woman knows how to shoot a gun, Raylan.”

It was a credit to the woman in question that Raylan immediately blanched. “Jesus, no. She’s pregnant with my kid, but we’re not together. Not anymore.”

So Tim wasn’t likely to be shot walking down the street, which was something of a relief. Winona was a firecracker and Tim knew better than to mess with her on a regular day, let alone when she was pregnant. But that just left him with what Raylan was suggesting: that they _keep doing this_. Seeing as how Tim had been expecting Raylan to act like nothing had happened and leave, he was flying blind. 

“Let me get this straight -” Raylan snorted and Tim cut himself off to groan, the fucking ridiculousness of having this conversation with a man like Raylan not at all lost on him. “Shut up, you dick. You’re saying you want to keep doing this?”

Like the gravity of the conversation they were having had just dawned on Raylan he sat up, arranging Tim’s pillows behind his back while he made a face like he was thinking. While a thoughtful Raylan _did_ usually lead to disaster, that he was thinking this through at all actually calmed Tim’s racing heart down a beat or two. It at least implied that Raylan wasn’t just suggesting this because he saw it as an easy way to get his dick wet. 

“I mean, sure,” and Raylan pulled at a loose thread on the sheets pooled in his lap instead of meeting Tim’s eyes, which sent his heart rate right back up. “Provided we don’t send Art into an early grave by tellin’ him, who’s it gonna hurt?”

 _Me, probably,_ was on the tip of his tongue, only Tim would sooner shoot himself than admit that. But Raylan bringing up Art brought a certain marshal to mind, and Tim could feel himself paling. “Rachel’s gonna figure it out as soon as we walk through those doors, Raylan.”

That made Raylan grin, though it seemed more rueful than amused. “About that… my guess is, she already has.” The shock and blue ball-inducing terror of that actually made Tim cough. Raylan’s cheeks darkened with a fucking _blush._ “Back at the bar, when you were up on the bull…”

Tim felt rooted in place. “Before she left me with no ride home, you mean.”

Raylan nodded, like he was remembering the same thing Tim was: riding the bull with Raylan’s eyes on him, finding Rachel gone, hearing Raylan say _I can be your ride_. “That’s because she took one look at my face, watchin’ you up there, said ‘her work here was done’, and hightailed it.”

Silence echoed around them. A part of Tim didn’t want to believe that his attraction to Raylan was so obvious that Rachel had spotted it without him having to say anything, while another part of him knew Rachel was one sly sonuvabitch. “She set us up?”

“Seems that way.”

Huh. Okay, so Rachel knew. Tim guessed that she’d mercilessly tease him about it for a week, maybe two, before she’d get bored. It would be a bigger pain in his ass than Raylan’s dick had been, probably, but Tim could bear it. They were good enough friends that he knew that he could trust Rachel not to tell Art about it unless it was absolutely necessary, and it wasn’t like Raylan would be wanting to screw Tim for any great length of time. No, there was an expiry date on whatever this ended up being: it would last just as long as it took another leggy blond woman with attitude to walk into Raylan’s life, Tim knew that much for certain. 

Raylan’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. “Look, if you don’t want to, there’s no hard feelings -”

Oh, that was some bullshit. Tim shook his head before Raylan could finish. “Hey, I didn’t say that.” Raylan’s eyes snapped to his, the beginnings of a grin starting to quirk his mouth. “We’ve just gotta be smart about it. Never at the office, and we don’t tell anyone.” Tim couldn’t bring himself to say _no feelings_ , because he liked to set achievable goals for himself. If Raylan brought it up he would agree to it, especially if it meant that they could keep doing this for a while; he’d just have to cut and run when things got dicey, like they were bound to.

Raylan was already nodding, though, and when his hands landed on Tim’s waist, Tim let Raylan draw him into his lap. “That’s the smartest idea I’ve heard all week,” and he tilted his head like he wanted to kiss Tim, which Tim wouldn’t usually protest at - hybrid morning-coffee breath aside - only he had one question he couldn’t get out of his head; he moved his mouth out of Raylan’s firing line and got a frustrated grunt for his troubles. “Tim?”

“Being with a man... it doesn’t bother you at all?”

The question made Raylan lean back but not away, his hands staying steady on Tim’s waist. He was blushing again, which might just be Tim’s new favorite look on him. “Fucking you was about the hottest thing I’ve ever done, so no.” This time when Raylan leaned forward to kiss him Tim let him, shivering when Raylan’s tongue met his own. They kept that up for long enough that Tim was most of the way hard when Raylan pulled away to say, “Besides, you’re not the first guy I’ve kissed.”

_What?_

A million questions ping ponged around Tim’s head in the space of a second before clarity hit him like a bullet to the chest, stealing his breath just the same. “Boyd.”

Raylan’s grimace said as much as any words would have and Tim had no idea how to feel about _that_ particular nugget of new information. But was it really _new_ information? Hearing that Raylan and Boyd had dug coal together sounded more like a euphemism every time. The thought of them kissing each other didn’t exactly repulse him, either, and with the way Raylan was watching him, Tim thought maybe Raylan knew that. 

The sound of a phone buzzing against wood had them both tilting their heads; Tim’s phone was still on the table not five feet away with a black screen, so it had to be Raylan’s. The hands at his waist tightened and Raylan kissed the corner of his mouth. “We’re gonna be late.”

Tim grunted in acknowledgement, still processing. Still hard, too, but that felt secondary. He shifted off of Raylan’s lap and watched him get dressed, trying not to feel disappointed when Raylan tucked his half-hard dick away. Barely two minutes later Raylan sat his hat on his head and strolled forward, a deputy US marshal once more, to lift Tim’s chin. The kiss he gave him was deep enough to feel like a promise. “See you at the office.”

God, this was going to end so fucking badly. 

Tim still laughed and nodded as Raylan walked out of his room; just short of thirty seconds later Tim heard his front door open and close before Raylan’s car started up, gravel crunching underneath the tires. Only then did he let himself flop backwards onto the sheets with a strangled groan, hand sliding underneath the waistband of his briefs to jerk himself off rough and quick; he came with Raylan’s name behind his teeth.

After a perfunctory shower Tim got dressed and hit the road - Raylan hadn’t been kidding when he said that they were going to be late - and every pothole he drove over sent an exquisitely sharp ache through his ass until he was more than half hard as he pulled into the carpark; he’d beaten Raylan there, but Rachel and Art’s cars were already in the lot. 

It was a blessing, then, when Tim walked in and saw that Rachel wasn’t at her desk and wouldn’t be able to immediately examine his walk for evidence of any recent poundings he might have received. Tim got himself his first shitty coffee of the day and sat down, booting up his computer while he tried to tell himself, however futile it might be, that maybe Rachel _didn’t_ know anything after all. That she’d just been taking a shot in the dark last night to see if she hit anything. If he and Raylan played this right, they could -

Rachel emerged from the locker room like he’d summoned her and the smile she sent his way told Tim everything he needed to know. He sunk down in his seat and tried to tell himself that he wasn’t hiding, breathing a sigh of relief when she sat at her own desk and didn’t say anything. 

It was another ten minutes before Raylan walked through the doors and Tim snorted to himself; comments about being late or not, Raylan sure as shit wasn’t on time. Tim saw Rachel lift her eyes from the folder in front of her as Raylan walked past but she kept her mouth shut, even when Raylan hung up his hat and turned to Tim to say, “Mornin’.”

It felt like an echo of their earlier conversation and it made Tim want to smile. “Hey.”

Retrospectively, it should have been obvious that Rachel was only lulling him into a false sense of security. 

Tim finished his coffee and stood up to get another one when the case files on his screen were starting to make him want to stab himself with a pencil, and he concentrated on walking over to the coffee machine as normally as he could. He made it all the way there without Rachel saying anything and he relaxed minutely as the machine spat out its noxious waste, only to catch Rachel’s amused glance as soon as he turned around. He refused to freeze like a cornered animal, but he only made it half way back to his desk before Rachel went for the throat. 

“Tim, you look like you rode that bull a little too hard last night.”

 _Don’t look at Raylan, don’t look at Raylan, don’t look at Raylan._ Tim grinned at her and took a sip of his coffee, leaning against his desk once he reached it like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like Raylan wasn’t sitting between the two of them, looking at his computer screen like they wouldn’t be able to see the smirk lifting the corner of his mouth; it was on the right side, so maybe Rachel couldn’t. 

Tim knew he had to act normal right now, but ‘normal’ meant making a joke out of it. Well, in for a penny… “Yeah, well,” another sip of his coffee, “it was a little bigger than I’m used to, but I think I managed just fine.”

Raylan’s hands froze on his keyboard as a delighted grin took over Rachel’s face, her eyes lighting up with a dangerous combination of amusement and curiosity. She pointedly flicked her eyes from Tim to Raylan before she raised an eyebrow like, _really?_

Did this count as admitting anything? Tim still felt like there was a certain amount of plausible deniability that he could fall back on. If she asked him again in private later it would be easy enough to say that he’d been joking; everyone knew sarcasm was his first language. Besides, he doubted that she really believed that Raylan was attracted to him. He raised both of his eyebrows back at her: _really._

The shock on Rachel’s face felt like its own kind of reward and Tim sat back down at his desk, hyper aware of Raylan sitting two feet away. After a moment Raylan started typing again, even if Tim would put good money on whatever he was writing being nonsense, and Tim grinned as he got back to work.

If Raylan really wanted to do this, Tim was going to take advantage of that for as long as he was allowed to. It was probably useless to hope that it didn’t blow up in their faces somewhere down the line, but Tim was finding it easy not to worry about that when he could feel Raylan’s eyes on the side of his face more often than not.

God, if Tim had known that stealing Raylan’s hat and riding a mechanical bull would get him here, he would have done it sooner.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading and I really hope you enjoyed! Kudos and/or comments are 💓
> 
> While writing this I ended up daydreaming up a whole sequel (that will probably be even longer 😳) with all of the good stuff: even more sex, exploration of feelings, development of relationships... a thruple with Boyd 🥴 So that will be coming at some point in the future!
> 
> I'm over on tumblr [@xanderspike](http://xanderspike.tumblr.com/) if you wanna talk to me about this fic, or anything else related to Justified/Givenson!


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